Even If This Costs Us Our Lives
by Noraque
Summary: Sequel to my story Hellstorm. NCIS has been destroyed. Across the globe, navy personnel are disappearing. To stop them, the team must recruit a group of specialists from around the world. The catch? It's a mission- none of them are expected to survive...
1. Ambush

**Plot****: Set near the end of Season 7. In the process of investigating a string of mysterious mass disappearances of Navy personnel, the team is suddenly and violently ambushed by an unknown and highly advanced enemy. Rescued by two foreign intelligence agents, realizing that NCIS' ability to operate and respond has all but been destroyed, the team must recruit a group of the most skilled but unlikely operatives from around the world and search for clues about the nature of their enemy. In order to be successful, the newly formed group must launch an offensive attack, in what could very well be for all of them a suicide mission…**

**Official Songs:** **'Hellbent' by Groove Addicts; 'Heart of Courage' by Two Steps from Hell**

In the large dimly-lit room, a single light flickered on; the large screen at the back, stretching at least half of the room's far wall, hiccupped once and then switched on completely, lighting up every corner of the area. Computers and consoles filled almost every square foot, leaving only a thin path from the door to the back to walk along. The console underneath the screen lit up with at least a thousand different lights, each one highlighting a different function or purpose.

At a computer near the screen, a figure stopped and turned- a small, slender female figure; thin, yet remarkably agile; petite, yet extremely dangerous. Her eyes narrowed towards the screen; dark eyes that pierced the soul of anyone who stared into them. A quick flick of her wrist- barely noticeable but enough to sever a man's spine at just the right angle, flicked off the computer it was studying. In two seconds, she had moved over directly in front of the screen and stared up at it, the light shining off the black leather outfit curving snugly over her body. The unique insignia over her right breast, that of two crossed flaming katanas, shone in the reflection of the screen.

In the confines of the screen appeared the picture of a grey-suited man sitting behind a wooden desk, his face hidden in the darkness of the room he occupied. His fingers interlocked on the desk in front of him, he asked in a low, emotionless voice, "What have you to report?"

Not a flicker of emotion passed over the woman's Asiatic facial features as she replied, "The operation in Washington has largely been a success; the latest naval base was pacified and all subjects were captured and transported without incident, as have all our other targets since the operation began. Our work and tests will continue unhindered." She began to pace in the small space in front of the screen. "However, we may have to deal with a certain obstacle in our path before our next target can be hit."

"Obstacle?" The man drummed his fingers against the desk. "I assume you are referring to the attention you have drawn by the US Navy's own authorities."

"The Naval Criminal Investigative Service has been pursuing our strikes with more determination than we had anticipated." The woman replied. "Their investigations have not caused any significant changes to our own operations, and we are confident they have not yet become aware of our existence, but their presence is becoming increasingly intrusive. They have been forcing us to make more adaptations to our operation than all of the other investigative services of the navies we have hit. If this continues as it has, the success of our long-term goals may not be so reassured."

The man paused for a second before inhaling audibly. "That is unacceptable."

The woman frowned. "The intrusion of NCIS will not be permitted to endanger our operation. They are merely one group, but it seems they pursue their own goals with a ruthless desire that almost parallels our own. Small as they are, they are a real threat. If NCIS is allowed to interfere, our operation will be in jeopardy of failure."

The man leaned back and looked straight ahead. In a low, decisive tone, he replied, "Then see to it that they do not interfere."

The woman nodded, and the man asked in the same tone, "What about the status of Subject Zero?"

"We have sent field units to the designated location. They have not reported in yet; acquisition of the subject in such a difficult condition will take time. But we will continue to search until the subject has been recovered."

"Good. The field unit of NCIS is currently on location of your latest strike- vulnerable in their current position. The defence capabilities of the investigative service's official building are severely lacking and should not pose a problem." He leaned forward, his face still hidden from view. "Ensure that NCIS does not pose any future problems."

The screen went blank.

An almost fiery look came into the woman's eye, her lips pursed together for a second before she raised a hand to her earpiece.

"_Attention all grounded troops; Commando Units B and C are to proceed immediately to the coordinates uploaded to their respective squad leaders. Mission objectives are to locate and destroy the noted targets with extreme prejudice. No subjects are to be captured or left alive; repeat- no subjects are to be captured or left alive. Prepare Battle Strikers for deployment in order to ensure complete annihilation of targeted personnel and property. Ensure that the Naval Criminal Investigative Service is destroyed beyond recovery._"

**NCIS**

"No, no, no- Tony, you're not listening. I'm telling you that there's not a trace of surveillance footage left in the security system. It's as though every single camera was neutralized at the exact same time."

"McGee, I know you love to tinker around and explore the wonderfully boring world of electronics, but even I have to draw the line with this one. Every single security camera on the _entire base_ neutralized at the exact same time? Was there a bug that somehow slipped through the security cracks that caused all this?"

"No bug is capable of doing this much widespread damage so quickly to such a highly secure system. I've run across countless security blips and I'm telling you right now that nothing I've ever seen is physically capable of doing anything like this."

"Maybe that MIT brain of yours is just beginning to burn itself…"

_Thwack!_

"Ouch! Thanks boss."

Gibbs looked at him reproachfully. "No problem, DiNozzo. And now that we've gotten rid of any unhelpful hot air, would someone mind telling me what we've got here?"

"It's the exact same as at the other bases, Gibbs." McGee responded, typing away at his portable computer console. "The entire security system was shut down just a minute before the base went silent; every defence system went offline and ever surveillance camera went dark at the exact same time."

"Explain, McGee- how did the security system of a US Naval Base just manage to shut down completely without leaving any trace behind?"

"Probably the same as all the others." McGee answered nonchalantly, then winced when he realized who he had just said that to. "Sorry boss. I mean I haven't been able to determine it yet. There's no evidence of virus or any malicious software or any evidence of a hacking operation."

"Yeah, but the best hackers don't leave a trail- you ought to know that, McHacker." Tony grinned. "Otherwise the CIA would be knocking on your front door with a waterboard in hand."

"Even the best hackers leave a trail if you know what to look for. I've seen just about every clue a hacker leaves behind in my life and I'm telling you there was no hacking job here. It's as if the system just… _fried_."

"A system that's 'just fried' McGee doesn't do us any good." Gibbs said impatiently. "Keep at it and let me know what you find. DiNozzo, go see what Ziva's come up with; she was over in Crew Quarters B when I last saw her."

"On it boss."

McGee continued to type away at the computer console while Tony started jogging off in search of the newest official NCIS agent. However, it wasn't necessary; Gibbs turned away from McGee just in time to see Ziva walking towards them, a frustrated expression on her face.

"Well, it seems now you're able to sense when I'm thinking of coming for you Zee-vah." Tony grinned. "Do you do that often?"

"DiNozzo!"

"Sorry boss."

"It is unbelievable," fumed Ziva, "just how much effort one can put into finding something only to come up with nothing whatsoever. Not only is there not a single witness to tell us what happened or any bit of security footage to look at, there is not a hint of forensic evidence to be found."

"There was none at the other two bases either, Ziva." Tony replied. "Are you sure you looked everywhere? Nothing and no one causes anything like this to happen without leaving something behind."

"Back in Mossad, I specialized in leaving no evidence behind, Tony." Ziva retorted. "And I am sure that Abby could make good on her promise on killing someone and leaving no evidence behind as well. But that is beside the point- an entire base disappearing without a trace is unusual enough, but _three_ bases in just over as many weeks? That is definitely not normal."

"I think we're wasting our time here." Tony exclaimed. "A grand total of nearly a week of doing nothing but pouring over every single inch of creepy, deserted bases, looking for non-existent evidence, and we haven't found any trace of anything unusual happening here."

Gibbs turned and stared at him. "'Nothing unusual'?" He said incredulously. "Three Navy bases have disappeared without a trace in the last month and you say that nothing's unusual?" He slapped the back of the ex-cop's head. "Something obviously happened to them, DiNozzo; they didn't just pick up and walk away!"

"I know that boss," Tony murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "It's just that we automatically assume that whatever did happen was something bad. How do we know they weren't just suddenly called out to service on some obscure mission or something?"

Gibbs fought to hold back his frustration, debating whether to give the senior field agent another head slap or a verbal dressing down, when he was interrupted by McGee.

"Picking up something on the automatic long-range scanner, boss." The junior field agent's eyes narrowed as he expanded the screen on his console and stared down at it. "Some kind of unidentified air vessel." His mouth puckered. "Hmm- looks like a cruiser of some kind. Whatever it is, it's definitely big."

"Cruiser?" Gibbs automatically turned his head to the sky.

"It doesn't match any known signatures in NCIS database. Definitely not a Navy aircraft; doesn't look like any known air vessel from any other country either as far as I can tell."

Tony and Ziva soon joined Gibbs in looking towards the sky. Even though it was a cloudy day, there was still a bit of sunlight poking through the clouds. As the agents looked to the sky, they could definitely feel the area getting darker; the shadows grew longer and a chilly feeling suddenly swept over the open area.

Then a movement in the sky caught Gibbs' eye. Turning his attention towards it, he caught sight of what had caused it; slowly drifting over the top of the base was a large aircraft.

Except that this craft was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Though it was in the shape of a fighter jet, it was much, much larger- at least the same size as a regular 747 passenger plane. Jet black and silent there was a definite sense of odiousness and foreboding that seemed to follow the vessel as it drifted into the area.

Ziva's eyebrows furrowed. "What is that?"

Neither Gibbs nor Tony could respond; the ship wasn't anything they had ever seen before. Neither of them had been aware that such aircraft _existed_, much less could describe one. One thing was for sure- it definitely wasn't a Navy plane.

"Ship appears to be changing course." McGee frowned as he stared at the computer screen. "Now reducing speed and starting a slow descent…" His voice would've trailed off had Tony not abruptly cut in.

"Can't be- there's not a viable runway to land on around here. There's no way this ship could possibly…"

"It's not going to land." Gibbs' gut gave a massive twist a second before he saw the bright yellow light on the underside of the aircraft's nose. His eyes widened. "Everyone get to cover!" He shouted as he flung himself to the side.

Tony and Ziva flung themselves in opposite directions just as a large whining, crackling noise filled the air; the bright light underneath the nose brightened to a blinding degree and a second later a stream of yellow, sparking light beamed down towards the ground in a laser-like fashion, striking the building just behind them. There was a massive roar that filled the air as the hit section immediately exploded in a huge fireball, setting off smaller explosions that ricocheted throughout the rest of the building.

Coughing from the smoke, Gibbs waved a hand in front of his face. "McGee!" He yelled. "Ziva! DiNozzo!"

"Boss!" About ten yards away from him through the smoke, the team leader saw the figure of McGee on his hands and knees, and his computer console in one hand.

"McGee, get to cover!" The ex-sniper yelled, picking himself up and crawling for cover behind a block of concrete.

"I'm coming, boss!" McGee stood up. "I just need to…"

Another explosion rocked the ground just beside him; McGee went flying about fifteen feet through the air, landing heavily on his torso. His computer smashed against the concrete, shattering into many pieces.

"McGee!" Gibbs shouted. The MIT graduate did not respond, merely lying motionlessly on the ground.

Gibbs immediately got up and started towards his youngest team member, intending on dragging him to safety but before he could reach him a tall wall of fire suddenly burst up in front of him, cutting off his path towards the junior agent. Stumbling back from the heat, he dropped back behind the concrete block just in time to hear Tony's voice.

"Ziva!" Gibbs peered around the block; about ten yards in front of his position Tony and Ziva were huddled behind separate blocks of concrete, each about fifteen feet apart. Tony had a very worried and agitated look on his face, and appeared to be in the middle of getting up to try to reach his partner.

_Tony, you idiot! What the hell are you doing?!_ "DiNozzo!" Gibbs shouted. "Don't move!"

Tony's head whipped over towards him. "Boss! Are you…"

"I said don't move, Tony! You want to get yourself killed out here?!"

Tony's face had an expression of both despair and firmness. "I'm sorry boss, but I have to…"

His voice was caught off by another whining, charging up sound. Looking up towards the ship, Tony's eyes widened. "Boss, look out! They're coming for another round!"

Peering out from behind the concrete block as much as he dared, Gibbs observed the yellow light under the craft's nose light up again. A second later the bright yellow laser beamed down towards the ground, this one striking a direct overhead hit on one of the NCIS trucks; the vehicle instantly exploded and went shooting up in the air, sending chunks of metal flying everywhere. The truck came crashing back down to the ground, with one of the doors flying off its hinges and slammed against the block that Tony was using for protection; the force of the impact knocked the ex-cop to the ground heavily.

"Tony!" Ziva's brown eyes widened in horror as she turned towards the fallen figure of her partner. Another explosion went off between the concrete blocks separating her from her partner. Ziva was thrown off her feet and flew backwards into the smoke, out of view.

"Ziva!" Tony's voice sounded equally panicked. Gibbs ground his teeth in frustration; he racked his brains frantically trying to come up with some way to get to his downed team members, but the massive heat emanating from the fires and the roar it was causing was too damn distracting.

Then he felt his pocket vibrate; his cell phone was ringing. Without thinking, he pulled it out and, without even checking to see who was calling, immediately began shouting into it. "This is Agent Gibbs! We're under attack at the navy base by an unknown enemy aircraft! We need backup and medical attention down here now! _Now_ goddamn it!" He didn't care who was on the other end; he just wanted someone to know his team was in trouble.

However, the voice that responded was far from reassuring him that a rescue would happen. "_Gibbs?!_" Abby's panicked voice filled his ear, making his heart beat even faster. But it was the loud crash at the other end that made his blood freeze.

"Abby? What's going on? What's happening?!" Gibbs shouted over the noise.

"_Gibbs, NCIS is under attack!_" The forensic scientist's voice sounded borderline hysterical. "_There's some big freaky plane that's firing yellow lasers here! Half the building's been destroyed! I can't…. anyone… alive…!_"

"Abby!" Gibbs shouted as the line crackled and cut out her voice. "Abby, are you alright? Talk to me!"

"_I don't know… who… so many… dead… oh, God… Gibbs! It's coming around…!_" There was a massive crackling sound as the line went dead.

"Abby!" Gibbs shouted, trying desperately to ignore the growing fear in his heart. "Abby!! Are you…"

Another explosion from just behind the block he was sitting against sent him falling forward; the phone went flying out of his hand out of reach into the flames.

Gibbs swore viciously under his breath, but stopped when he heard the familiar whining and crackling from above. Turning towards the sky, he saw the plane begin to charge up for another attack. In the few seconds that it seemed to hang in the air, frozen in time, he heard the panicked voice of Tony. "Boss!" The whining and crackling grew louder and louder, the light brighter and brighter.

"_GIBBS!_"

The bright laser stream beamed down towards the other van- this one burned right across the 'NCIS' lettering on the side, cutting through the steel like butter. The van exploded in a hail of twisted metal.

The last thing the ex-sniper recalled was a massive piece of the van flung forward towards the concrete block, smashing against it and breaking it into a thousand pieces. A huge combined chunk of metal and concrete slammed against his head just as the flames swept around the area that he was crouched on. He felt himself falling forward, his head just beginning to explode, as the darkness swept over him…

**A/N: Well, here it is! What do you think so far? Love it? Hate it? Please review!!!**


	2. Recovery

_Faint noises- clicks… whistles… voices…_

"_The NCIS team has been recovered… restoration and treatment has begun immediately…"_

_And now feelings… sensations; pain at first- searing through his body, burning up every part of his flesh; then a coolness, welcome relief flooding through his veins; a dull, distant throbbing in his head, matching up perfectly with a throb a second- his heartbeat, he realizes._

"_Healing of physical injuries seems to be progressing faster than anticipated. Signs of concussion appear to be retreating- burns to the flesh improving at an increasing rate. Subject appears to be regaining unconscious functional ability." _

_And now a different voice._

"_Subject showing signs of perception- showing an awareness of his surroundings. Mental processing appears to be approaching the normal rate. Subject appears to be regaining consciousness…"_

"_No, damn it, he's not ready yet! His body hasn't healed fully from the attack. Give him the sedative- now!"_

_Faint clicking- clattering on a keyboard. "It's not doing anything, Stephanie; he's just showing more and more signs of awareness." An increasing beeping noise. "Heart rate rising to dangerous levels! This isn't working!"_

"_Again Nigel; try again!"_

"_I _am _trying! What do you think I'm doing? I'm an intelligence officer, not a bloody scientist!"_

"_I don't care what you are! Try again!"_

_A pause. Then the beeping slows down. "Heart rate dropping back into normal range. Christ that was too close."_

"_What did I tell you about screwing around with the subjects? What about the other day when you nearly put the cop into cardiac arrest?"_

"_What do you take me for- a damn drongo? I stabilized him in case you've forgotten!"_

"_Before almost killing him! Your estimates were off… run the numbers again!"_

_And then silence…_

**NCIS**

Gibbs groaned; he could hear the thumping within is head again- loud, systematic beats. Out of instinct he shook his head and immediately regretted it as a wave of pain swept through his skull. Stifling a cry of agony, he waited while the pain subsided and then the beats faded back.

Subtly he tried to move his hand and found that, despite some initial stiffness, he was not restrained and there was nothing wrong with the muscles. He tried the same test with his hands and toes with the same results. Even though his entire body was both stiff and sore, there appeared to be no serious damage, at least externally. The lack of pain and discomfort from inside told him it was a safe bet that he had suffered no internal injuries.

Then came the voice again. "Welcome back to the real world, Agent Gibbs."

Cautiously, he opened his eyes just a fraction; the light in the ceiling shone down into them. They weren't blinding, but his pupils had been exposed to darkness so long that he unconsciously shied away from them for a moment. His eyes adapted to their newfound circumstances, they slowly turned towards the sound of the voice.

He realized he was lying on a bed, wearing his standard office clothes, in a brightly lit room that looked somewhat like a cross between a hospital ward and MTAC back at the Navy Yard; a large screen covered the back wall along with a computer console. Staring down at him on his left was the pretty, creamy-white face of a young woman; no more than thirty years old, he would have guessed, dressed in a dark suit. Dark brown hair hung loosely onto the tops of her shoulders, her pale blue eyes staring into his own. Her lips, bright red, were pressed together- not firmly but not casually either; more in a business-like way of studying something that caught her attention. They parted ways as she spoke again.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Gibbs stared at her for a second, uncomprehending. His mind was working a thousand miles an hour, trying to come up with some plausible reason as to why he was lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room staring up into the eyes of a total stranger. And why the hell was his body so sore? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was…

_At the naval base… searching for evidence… that big plane that arrived… the laser attacks… team was hurt… NCIS attacked… Abby…_

In the blink of an eye Gibbs was out of the bed and had pushed the woman against the nearby wall. Keeping his forearm pressed against her windpipe, he made sure that she couldn't retaliate against him.

For her part, the woman only looked mildly surprised. "That's a very strange way to offer your thanks." He noticed she had automatically thrown up her forearm to ensure some separation between him and her throat, almost as is she were expecting such an attack.

"I don't know who you are," Gibbs said lowly, "but you're going to answer some questions for me. And you better not lie to me; lies piss me off. You don't want me pissed off."

"Unless that anger is directed in the right direction." She replied unexpectedly. "Fortunately for us, that is precisely what we were intending."

"Whatever you _were_ intending to do, I'm sure I could dissuade you otherwise, but before that there is some explaining you're going to do." Gibbs replied, not easing up on his hold. "First off, you can start by telling me where the rest of my team is. What have you done with them?"

"Exactly what we did with you." The woman replied coolly. "We saved their lives and brought them here. Despite what you might think, we're on your side."

Gibbs tightened his hold. "What if I don't believe you?"

"You don't have a choice, Agent Gibbs." She replied firmly. "You, your team- you need to understand that right now you are in the safest possible place you can be and are among the people who can help you."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word on that. Or on the status of my team. I'll ask again; where are they? And give me a precise answer this time."

Whatever the woman was planning to say she didn't get a chance, for at that moment there was the sound of a door opening on the opposite side of the room. Turning around, Gibbs observed, with much internal relief, the entrance of Tony, Ziva, and McGee as well as Abby, Ducky and Jimmy Palmer, all dressed in their traditional wear and none showing signs of serious injury. Along with them was a youngish blond man wearing an open necked shirt and suit, being held onto tightly by both Ziva and McGee; Ziva holding what appeared to be a piece of metal against the man's throat.

"Gibbs!" Abby's eyes lit up as she saw her boss. "Oh my God, I was so worried about you! I thought when I heard you on the phone that I wouldn't… wouldn't…"

Gibbs allowed himself a small smile in return. "Good to see you too, Abs." He turned his attention to the rest of his team. "The rest of you alright?"

"Just peachy, boss." Tony replied in an attempt to use his usual laid-back attitude and not quite succeeding as well as he usually did. "The world's one big juicy peach right now. Tony DiNozzo is back in the action!"

"I'm fine too, boss." McGee answered. "Just a little sore."

"I admit to being a little bruised up myself, Jethro." Ducky responded. "Fortunately, it is not too grave or serious. That is the same situation for you, isn't it Mr. Palmer."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

"I am fine as well, Gibbs." Ziva replied, turning towards her captive, "although I cannot guarantee that _everyone_ will be here when I am finished."

The strange woman gave a slightly amused chuckle. "Ah, Nigel- I should have known your eagerness would get the better of you."

"I'd like to see you try to distinguish between someone who's legitimately undergoing cardiac arrest and someone who's faking it just to draw you within grabbing distance!" The man replied, and Gibbs immediately noticed that the man was not speaking in the same accent as the woman; his was far less tonal- similar to British, but definitely not a UK one. His intonations and Gibbs' gut quickly told him that their captive friend hailed from Australia.

Gibbs turned incredulously to Ziva. "You _faked_ cardiac arrest???"

Ziva shrugged. "I have many skills."

"Yes, well it would be bloody nice if you focused them on someone other than me." The man called Nigel replied. "We have bigger problems to deal with than you screwing me around here!"

"Yeah, and that's the next thing I'd like to know." Gibbs turned his attention back to the woman. "Is someone going to tell me or am I going to have rip it out of your throat: who the hell are you and where the hell are we?"

"There's no need to resort to aggressive tactics." She replied coolly. "Trust me- you'll have plenty of opportunity for that later."

In one swift movement, the woman had knocked Gibbs' arms from her body and sent him back a foot. Momentarily caught off guard by the suddenness, the ex-marine quickly tensed up and prepared to launch a counter-attack, but instead the woman merely stepped the side and began to pace back and forth.

"Since we're all on the same team here, you deserve to know what's going. My name is Stephanie Brewer- I'm an Intelligence Officer with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service." She nodded towards the opposite side of the room. "The poor bastard your agents have in their clutches, Gibbs, is Nigel Warner, an operative in the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. We've spent the past two weeks trying to save you and your team and bring you back to working capability."

"Hold on a second." Tony interrupted. "Did you say _two weeks_?"

"A fortnight, to be precise. You were attacked on September 29 and today is October 14, Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie replied. "All of you have been in a coma for the past fifteen days; Nigel and I have been working around the clock in an effort to bring you back."

"How'd we get here… wherever 'here' is?" Abby demanded.

"We are currently in the Communications Room of an advanced, but virtually unknown building in rural DC, about twenty miles outside Washington. CSIS and ASIS have been leased this building by your government for the purpose of international cooperation between intelligence services. We recovered you from the destroyed naval base and brought you here for recovery."

"And you just happened to be passing by when we were under attack?" The suspicion in Ziva's voice was hardly concealed.

"Not at all." Stephanie crossed her arms. "CSIS and ASIS have been tracking these attacks for a long time; the problem is that every time we managed to pinpoint where another attack was taking place, it had already been hit. What you saw back at the other bases you investigated is exactly what we saw; entire navy bases have disappeared with a trace with absolutely no evidence left behind whatsoever."

"If it's such a big deal," Gibbs cut in, "why aren't other US agencies like the FBI or the CIA investigating them?"

"Apart from the fact that NCIS is the one charged with investigating the Navy?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "They're not aware of the full extent of this situation." She uncrossed her arms. "The US isn't the only country to have been hit by these abductions. Navy personnel have been disappearing from other countries as well; Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the UK, South Korea, Indonesia, Iran, China- all of them have suffered losses such as the ones your countrymen and women have suffered. However, only CSIS and ASIS have been able to make the connections and get a sense of what's going on. That's what Nigel and I were doing; when we received the intelligence that another base in DC had been hit, we immediately left for it in hopes of arriving before you did and tampered any clues. Instead, we found the entire base in flames and the four of you hovering between life and death. We pulled you out along with the survivors from the attack on NCIS and brought you here for treatment."

"Attack?" Gibbs suddenly remembered the terrifying call he'd got from Abby. "What's the state of NCIS now? What about other survivors? Leon Vance and everyone else."

"There were mass casualties when the Navy Yard was struck." Stephanie replied. "Director Vance was killed by a massive explosion in MTAC. Many more employees were killed in the subsequent other strikes. The only members in the building that our fellow operatives managed to recover were Miss Sciuto, Dr. Mallard and Mr. Palmer. Those were the only ones we were looking for anyway- the rest were expendable."

"_Expendable_?" Gibbs was slightly taken back by the forceful tone that came from McGee's mouth. "How can you possibly say that they are expendable? Each and every one of the people at NCIS was there because they deserved it! They were good at their jobs- they helped save lives and helped keep our country safe because of it! And you say they were expendable??"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "As much as I appreciate your loyalty to your colleagues Agent McGee, it is irrelevant. The fact is the only members of the NCIS team that we deemed necessary to rescue are the ones standing in this room with you. Besides, the entire Navy Yard was decimated in the attack- there is nothing left for you there. Trust me when I say that we acted in the absolute best way possible. I can say that as both a CSIS officer and a human."

"I can understand ASIS taking these kinds of steps; they're basically Australia's version of the CIA." Gibbs said, looking from Nigel to Stephanie. "But I didn't think CSIS took frontline jobs such as these."

"Don't be fooled by what your own intelligence services try to tell you about their own superiority, Agent Gibbs." Stephanie responded coolly. "CSIS looks out for Canada and stops threats that will harm our country before they happen; they'll do whatever it takes to make sure Canadian security is not threatened, not unlike how ASIS protects Australia or the CIA protects the US. We may not be as high profile as your agencies, but that doesn't make us pencil pushers."

Gibbs allowed a small knowing look onto his face. "You don't fight like a pencil pusher either," he noted. "Your hand-to-hand reflects someone who's been in the field before."

"You're right- I haven't always been the type to wear a business suit in the field." Gibbs heard a snicker from behind him that sounded suspiciously like Tony's, which was abruptly cut off a second later- probably courtesy of Ziva. "But before we get into that, perhaps it would be a good idea that you see for yourself the gravity of the situation- and to prove that we are telling you the truth."

"I was just thinking along the same lines myself." Gibbs replied every bit as coolly.

"I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing the evidence firsthand anyway." She nodded towards the console. "The answer lies on the other side of that screen. However, in order to see it, you'll need to release Nigel so he can boot up the computer."

Gibbs looked back to where Ziva and McGee were both holding a rather annoyed Nigel Warner; the ex-sniper nodded and the two agents released the Australian, though they continued to keep a watchful eye on him.

The ASIS officer walked over to the screen, grumbling under his breath. "Just because _you_ are completely illiterate when it comes to these things…" to which Stephanie merely rolled her eyes. Nigel hit a few keys and the screen flickered on.

Gibbs stepped forward in front of the screen. The picture cleared and revealed a middle-aged man in a navy suit, leaning back in an expensive chair. The man took a deep breath and looked over Gibbs with a largely emotionless face. "Agent Gibbs." He said in a low voice.

Gibbs' face mirrored the man's own. He crossed his arms. "Director Delcourt." His tone was no more friendly than the last time they had spoken- several years prior. But Gibbs knew the man- knew him quite well.

Director Christopher Delcourt- Agency Executive (i.e. 'head') of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!!! I hope I got the intentional Aussie slang right- if not, by all means tell me!**

**Also, I had Rachel McAdams in mind when creating the character of Stephanie Brewer, so picture her in the role. For Nigel Warner- I don't know; is there any Australian actor who fits that bill? **


	3. Explanations

**A/N:** **Just in case you didn't know, this story is the sequel to my other story 'Hellstorm'. I recommend that if you haven't read it already that you do so before reading this story- it's not absolutely crucial that you do but some parts will make more sense if you have already read it. Sorry for the late warning.**

Director Delcourt studied Gibbs carefully, being careful not to let any emotion show over his face. The ex-marine had to give the man credit; the director knew how to face someone down, even if he had spent most of his life on the sidelines as opposed to the frontlines. Still, that was not going make the team leader any more courteous towards the Canadian.

"I have to say you're looking well," Delcourt said, folding his hands in front of him. "How are you feeling?"

"Let's cut the bull, Delcourt." Gibbs said heatedly. "I was promised answers and I damn sure intend to get them- though I'm a little surprised to see you at the head of this alleged operation."

"No doubt you're surprised your own national agencies are not at the forefront instead?" Delcourt replied every bit as coolly. "I expect Stephanie and Nigel gave you the rundown of what's happened and what is going on right now."

"Maybe- but I'm going to need something other than the word of a couple of strangers to determine whether or not I believe what I've been told."

Delcourt shrugged slightly. "Fair enough; I can tell that you're not in a very trusting mood right now- especially in the wake of the attack on your team. But you should know that I didn't make the decision I did lightly, Gibbs; I didn't send two of the top agents under my direction to waste time and effort just preserving your bodies for a decent burial. The fact is the entire world is facing an unknown threat; that threat was enough to warrant saving you."

"Cut to the chase." Gibbs said abruptly. "What's going on that made CSIS so willing to rescue members of NCIS?"

"Quite simply put?" Delcourt straightened up. "We're at war."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Officially? No one. Unofficially? The entire world. I'm sure you've been briefed as to the disappearances of naval personnel from many different countries. No government would dare say it out loud, but the whole world is under attack- and we're under attack by an unknown enemy that no one knows anything about. The attacks on your naval bases were just the latest in a string of disappearances from across the globe. While you and your team were sleeping, more bases have been hit; American, Canadian, Japanese, Russian. All have suffered from mysterious abductions from their navies. And that's why I ordered the pooling of resources in order to treat your team and get you up to full speed quickly."

"I understand that CSIS would look to defend their own countrymen and women," Gibbs said, "but fighting a war, even if it's a covert one, really doesn't seem like CSIS's line of work."

"You forget that our country is not dependent on you for every single bit of security we enjoy." Delcourt responded. "CSIS was created for and is committed to the preservation of Canadian security and interests, and we're very good at what we do." He looked Gibbs dead in the eye. "If whoever is behind these attacks is targeting Canada- abducting our navy personnel or trying to cripple our country- CSIS will stop them. If we waste our time waiting for politicians or the brass of the military to decide what to do, there may not be any navy personnel left to save."

"That doesn't explain why you have ASIS agents under your command." Gibbs remarked, motioning in the direction of Nigel.

"CSIS and ASIS have a partnership not unlike your CIA and Britain's MI6. We share many pieces of intelligence and often work together when the need arises. Director Wells in Canberra agreed to loan a number of ASIS personnel to work in conjunction with CSIS since the threat is so great. As for why I'm in charge, CSIS was the first organization to make the connections between the disappearances; therefore CSIS has unofficial jurisdiction over this operation."

"You make it sound as though you've already got the situation well under your control; why are you bringing me and my team into this?"

"You've seen the enemy up close," Delcourt responded, gesturing with his hand. "And not only seen it, but survived their attack. Your team is unique Agent Gibbs; you've survived and succeeded where countless others would have failed. You're more than just an investigative service- you may as well be an iconic symbol. And I have no idea whether whoever is making these attacks understands who exactly you are, but you spat in the face of their attempts to take you out. That has to mean something to them."

"I saw the extent of their abilities up close and in person." Gibbs replied slightly tersely. "Their weaponry and technology was unlike anything I'd ever seen; unlike anything I'd even thought possible _existed_! If you're serious about fighting a war, then you need to mobilize your military forces and alert other countries to do the same."

"Our military is currently bogged down in Afghanistan, Agent Gibbs." Delcourt replied coolly. "As are those of numerous other countries. A few of them, including yours, also are fighting in Iraq and are unable to provide adequate assistance. Besides, this operation requires a non-military handling; something that involves tactics other than sending in an entire army to destroy an enemy we know virtually nothing about. As far as the technology goes, you're right; what you encountered on that navy base was unlike anything ever seen before by our own intelligence, which makes me wonder if this situation is even bigger than we thought. A single group could not simply create or obtain these weapons on their own; they had to have had help acquiring them. It is entirely possible that whoever is responsible is not working alone, and that the true force behind them is supplying them with this technology. I cannot say for certain. That is also part of the reason we brought you back; we need a team with the resources and the abilities to determine the true extent of this threat, and NCIS under your leadership is just the team we're looking for."

Gibbs let out a heavy sigh. Even though everything the director was saying made sense and could be rationalized, he still didn't like it. He was used to directing his team his way, regardless of what anyone else thought and independent of any outside influence. But he quickly realized that whatever was going on with the abductions of navy personnel and whoever was responsible also was responsible for the attack on his team, and that the attack had left NCIS virtually incapable of handling an operation like this on its own. Much as he hated to admit it, he was going to need some help with this- and if CSIS and ASIS could provide it, he would be stupid not to accept it in the face of a very real threat.

"If what you're saying is true," Gibbs said slowly and cautiously, "if whoever attacked NCIS is also responsible for the attacks on navies across the world, I'd consider accepting your offer."

Delcourt leaned back in his chair. "Good."

"But that does _not_ mean that I'm going to start filing reports to you." The marine sniper added quickly. "You may be the reason me and my team are still alive, but that doesn't mean I trust you to make the right decisions a field commander would. If we're going to work together, then I'm going to need full authority over this operation."

"I would've been disappointed if you requested otherwise." Delcourt responded. "This is why I already gave the executive order to all agents in the building you're in to recognize and follow your command. We need a leader to head this mission- a strong leader, and right now I couldn't have asked for a better candidate. Your leadership will be the unifying force needed to succeed in this operation."

Gibbs furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"

"You'll see in due course. For now, what you must concern yourself with is finding out who exactly is behind these attacks. The necessary resources are at your disposal- if you find anything lacking, don't hesitate to put forth a request. Stephanie and Nigel will be assisting you as well- both here and in the field."

"What makes them so special that you'd see fit to assign them to my team without even telling me?" Gibbs demanded, completely ignoring the fact the two agents in question were in the room listening to the exchange.

"I'll let them fill you in on the details of that, if they wish." Delcourt replied. "From me, all you need to know is that you can trust them to do what's right and necessary. You won't have any problems with them."

He tapped the computer screen on his desk. "Be sure to contact me when you've found something. Good luck, Agent Gibbs."

The screen went blank.

Gibbs turned back towards the group behind him. Their faces were somewhat predictable; Ziva, Tony and Ducky looked inquisitive; McGee, Palmer and Abby looked unsure; Stephanie and Nigel's were both satisfied.

"I take it you're convinced that we are indeed on your side and are helping you?" Nigel said in a slightly sarcastic manner.

"Being on my side and helping me are not always the same thing." Gibbs said sharply. "My team is expected to operate at peak capacity. On a mission such as this, I can't afford to have any members who'll hold us up."

"If you're worried about our qualifications, don't bother." Stephanie replied coolly. "Both of us are fully capable of handling any threat just as well as your team."

"Hate to break it to you, Officer Brewer," Tony interjected, "but the bossman doesn't give out his trust on vague assurances."

"There's nothing vague about any of our accomplishments, Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie retorted. "But since the scope of this mission is so great, I'll let that pass." She turned to the team leader. "If you really want to know Agent Gibbs, I wasn't always with CSIS; I spent seven years with the RCMP as a regular police officer, and then was recruited into the RCMP's elite Emergency Response Team, specializing in assault operations. CSIS recognized my potential and offered me a job two years ago in field intelligence operations. I supposed they were impressed with my PPC scores."

"And your hand-to-hand combat training." Gibbs noted. "But I get the sense you didn't join in order to show off your charming people skills."

"I have the upmost respect for your abilities, Agent Gibbs," she replied icily, "but don't think you can treat me as you would a junior member of NCIS. I believe in what CSIS does and stands for, and I've proven my ability and worthiness to the right people in order to get where I am today. If you don't want our personalities to affect the mission, I suggest you remember that." She turned and walked towards a table next to the large console, and began sorting through an array of equipment lying on it.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, slightly taken back by this remark. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the young Canadian before turning towards Nigel.

"I'm hoping for your sake you're not as blind a follower as your colleague." The ex-marine said.

"Stephanie's not blind; she merely is entirely driven by her determination." Nigel replied. "However, she is not much a people person- which makes it a good thing you have me around for balance on this team."

"This team requires more than just balance. I'm hoping you can provide something concrete to this mission."

Nigel shrugged. "Not much to tell really; been with ASIS for a good ten years now. Conducted operations in East Timor, Indonesia and the South China Sea. You remember that little flare up of violence in Dili a few years back? I was part of the team that helped rescue Australian civilians from a hotel that was taken over by the anti-government soldiers. The operation depended on covert action; unfortunately it didn't stay that way. The team was detected and had to directly engage- it was rather messy, something I know firsthand. But we were successful in ensuring no civilian casualties. And we softened the bastards up for the army to take down. I'd say that's as good a reason as any to track down the ones responsible for these series of abductions."

"Maybe, but this is not a simple rescue operation." Gibbs replied. "This operation is going to take time, dedication, patience, discipline, and a lot of hard work. That's what I expect from my team on a regular basis, and that's what I'd expect from you."

"We didn't use all the time we did to bring you back just to end up stabbing you the back, Agent Gibbs." The Australian said firmly. "If Director Delcourt says that you're in charge, then you're in charge. I trust you to make the decisions necessary to see this operation through."

"Even if that means doing something you disagree with?"

"I'm not blind, Gibbs- I'm sure that whatever choices you make will have a good, specific reason for them. But if I honestly believe that what you are doing is going to be counterproductive, I will let you know."

"Don't count on that happening, my friend from Down Under." Tony interjected. "The bossman is rarely wrong on anything; that gut of his will likely lead him to whomever's responsible long before any of your intelligence sources do."

"Maybe Tony, but at the moment I don't want to leave anything to chance; especially since being careless was probably at least part of the reason we ended up in this situation in the first place." Gibbs turned towards Nigel. "As long as we all have to work together and have the available resources to work with, we may as well go ahead with it. So, if everyone is feeling up to it, I suggest we get to work."

"A very good suggestion, Jethro." Ducky said. "However, I must question the use that Mr. Palmer and I could possibly be of in this facility. Neither one of us has any useful skills to help uncover…"

"There is a fully equipped medical bay in this facility, Dr. Mallard." Stephanie interrupted. "We would very grateful if you would see to it should the need arise in this mission to use it."

"Ah, yes- an excellent point, Miss Brewer. I think it would be most suitable and appropriate to install ourselves there and proceed immediately, would you not say Mr. Palmer?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes, of course, doctor. Absolutely."

"I'll show you two where it is." Nigel began walking towards the door. "If you would follow me."

Ducky and Jimmy followed the Australian out of the room. Gibbs turned to his remaining teammates. "Let's not waste any time with this- we treat this for the time being as we would any other case. Ziva, DiNozzo- wait until Warner gets back and then scope out the rest of this building; I'd like to know what their full capacities are. McGee, Abby- you get to work on whatever you can to find out who the hell is behind all this. I want everything you know about them."

"Um, boss," McGee started, "not that I'm complaining or anything but all the equipment I had at the base was pretty much destroyed in the attack. Without that equipment, it's going to be really difficult…"

"If you're referring to the memory stick in your portable computer console, Agent McGee," Stephanie called without turning around, "we recovered it from the scene as well. Our technology is very advanced; we may be able to pick up something you couldn't."

"Sounds like your problem just got solved." Gibbs replied. "So don't waste any more time by just standing there."

Abby narrowed her eyes at the junior agent, who was still standing motionless staring away from her. "Uh, McGee? Gibbs said we need to get to work- like _now_!"

Stephanie, in the same casual tone without turning around, said, "This mission isn't going to progress any faster Agent McGee, if all you do is stand around staring at my ass."

"Huh? OH!" McGee suddenly snapped out of his trance, turning slightly red. "Got it boss! Getting to work now!"

Abby raised an eyebrow as she followed him to over where Stephanie was working. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Only that if your good agent here is looking for a show, he's going to have to work a _hell_ of a lot harder to get one."

Gibbs closed his eyes as Abby's shocked silence penetrated the room. Tony let out an amused snicker. "I think if McGee wants a show he's going to have to ask _me_ to take over for him!"

_Thwack!_

"Ow! Zee-vah! What was that for?"

"So Gibbs would not have to waste the effort."

Gibbs sighed. This was going to be a _very_ long mission.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!!!**


	4. Cold Comrades

"So," McGee said cautiously to Stephanie as he and the CSIS agent began connecting the USB from his computer console to the main computer, while Abby was busy setting the hard drive up, "I never got the chance to thank you for saving our lives back at the base."

Stephanie, seemingly devoting all her attention to figuring out how the USB was supposed to be connected to their mainframe, answered absently, "It became a necessary thing to do, Agent McGee. You were there, you were alive and Director Delcourt believed every effort should be made in order to bring you back to help us. We take advantage of anything that may help us."

"Still, it couldn't have been the easiest job you ever did. I mean, there was probably still a full fledged blaze going on everywhere. If you'd been late by just a few minutes…"

"Then we would have failed." Stephanie looked him directly in the eye. "I don't accept failure, Agent McGee; I refuse to let it happen- ever. You should remember that from this point on."

"I didn't doubt your abilities," McGee defended himself. "I'm just saying that it wouldn't have been easy for anyone to do what you did successfully. I doubt very few people could have done the same under similar circumstances. You had to have run across difficult situations before."

Stephanie looked at him again. "We're here to work together and stop these abductions, not become best friends and share war stories. Stay focused on the mission at hand." She turned away.

McGee gave an internal sigh of disappointment. Though he didn't want to push her too hard- and thereby possibly subject himself to her advanced combat skills he had no doubt she possessed- he couldn't help but want to know more about her. Why he couldn't say for certain but there was definitely something about her that intrigued him. It was obvious she was not used to letting people get close- whether that was from her job or something else, he couldn't say- but he got the distinct impression that beneath that icy exterior lay a woman who was confronted by more than just a few personal worries.

Normally, he would have let the subject drop, but at that moment he was feeling bold enough to continue on. "For someone who says that, you sure make a lot of effort to keep a distance between the people you're supposed to work with."

"If you're trying to get inside my head and figure me out Agent McGee, don't bother." The Canadian replied coolly. "My job was to make sure your team was able to help us and to assist in taking down those responsible. Besides, you're not a psychiatrist, and even if you were you wouldn't get any information; I've been trained to resist any types of persuasion or interrogation, including torture, and you don't look like the torturing type to me. If I were you, I'd be more concerned about the types of skills that _I_ possess."

"What skills are we talking about exactly?"

"Take your pick. I can take down a man three times my size in hand-to-hand, gun him down from a hundred yards away or get him to confess to something inside thirty minutes. On top of that, I am a trained assault officer and _very_ fast- something you might want to remember. Basically Agent McGee, I'm saying that if you were to ever to decide it would be fun to screw with me, I could take you down in a heartbeat." She gave him a decidedly icy look. "So if you want a piece of friendly advice, here it is- _don't screw with me_…"

The underlying threat was more than evident, and McGee gave up in his attempts and got back to work.

Abby glared at the CSIS agent. "That was uncalled for! There was no reason to be so bitchy to him; he was just trying to make conversation. Awkward conversation, but he was making an attempt! There was no reason to threaten him!"

"I didn't threaten him, Miss Sciuto." Stephanie replied coolly. "I told him in plain, simple words not to get on my bad side. At any rate, I'm not looking for friend here; I'm trying to find out who's responsible for these attacks on naval personnel and I'm working to stop them. We can't afford awkward attempts to sit down and reveal our personal lives- not now."

"You know missy, you say it's a bad idea to screw with you. Well, you should know that it's not the best idea to get on _my_ bad side either. I don't take lightly to people who think they can say whatever they want to my friends. Being a forensic scientist has more advantages than just being useful in a lab." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I also got firsthand knowledge on how to kill someone and leave no forensic evidence behind."

Stephanie lifted her eyes to stare at the Goth. "Well, if CSIS ever has need of someone with your skills, I'll be sure to put in contact with our office in Ottawa. In the meantime, if you don't mind, we have some business to take care of."

"Not so fast!" Abby said, glaring. "You don't get off that easy with being so mean to McGee. Just because he doesn't have the field experience of Tony or Ziva doesn't mean he's a mere computer geek! Well, he is in a way, but he's much more than that! He's a computer geek _and_ a field agent! A damn good one! So that means he's double his worth! I won't listen to you talk to him like he's a piece of common trash!"

"If I thought he was a piece of common trash, he wouldn't be here. As to how useful he is in the field, I'm sure we'll get the opportunity to see later on. I'm certain he'll be an excellent asset to our group- providing he survives."

"Uh, you two do realize that I'm right here?" McGee interrupted, looking towards the two women. "I'm not deaf- I can hear everything you're saying!"

"Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to eavesdrop, Agent McGee?" Stephanie said absently, fiddling with the console. "Of course, it's also rude to stare but that didn't stop you before. To do that to a CSIS agent in space of five minutes, you must really have a pair of brass balls."

McGee's mouth opened and closed several times; unsure on how to respond to this direct and, quite frankly, accurate assessment of his actions, he couldn't help blushing again. Abby, on the other hand, seemed infuriated by this remark, and seemed prepared to unleash another barbed retort towards the Canadian when the agent suddenly let out a cry of frustration.

McGee turned his attention towards the CSIS officer. "What's wrong?"

She stared daggers at him and he couldn't help but wince internally at a gaze that reflected to a point the one he'd suffered so often from Gibbs. "The USB from your computer is having problems hooking up to our system. Our technology is just about the most advanced you're going to see, but it can't handle one little stick? Do you NCIS types intentionally make it hard for anyone else to read your files?"

McGee was just considering whether or not to point out to her that NCIS was not usually in the habit of storing their information so that other agencies could just review it whenever they wanted when he noticed what exactly she was doing. "Uh, Officer Brewer, the problem isn't with the USB; you're trying to attach it the wrong way."

"Oh, is there a _right_ way it's supposed to go?" The sarcasm was evident in her voice. "I really would never have noticed that."

McGee fixed a look on her that would have passed for frustration had it been almost anyone else. Instead, in a tone that seemed to reflect a desire to help, he said, "It will go a lot smoother if you allow me to show you. You have many skills, but I'm guessing this is one instance where my expertise will outweigh yours. Here- let me."

Stephanie raised her eyebrows as the junior agent quickly and effectively attached the USB stick and started the process of downloading the files to the console. She had to admit that both McGee's skill and his willingness to call her out on the situation impressed her- just a little. "You always so eager to bend over backwards for a woman who needs help with something, Agent McGee?"

"Only if she's in a position where's it favourable." McGee answered absently, and then froze at the implication that his answer could make. Abby shot both McGee and then the Canadian a death glare, indicating that she was not at all pleased at the choice of words that they had exchanged; Stephanie sent an equally cool look towards the forensic scientist, while McGee just looked apologetic.

Gibbs, who'd been silently listening in on the exchange while pretending not to, had been contemplating breaking up this little innuendo-ridden banter before the two women started exchanging more than just looks but, perhaps fortunately for them the big screen came to life, rolling what appeared to be video footage. Abby and McGee both let out triumphant cries, Stephanie gave an expression that ranged somewhere between satisfied and impressed, and the team leader immediately came over and focused on the console.

At that same moment, the door opened and in walked Nigel, Tony and Ziva. Tony for some reason looked really excited and seemed on the verge of breaking into a delight-driven rant when Stephanie's voice interrupted whatever he planned to say.

"Agent DiNozzo, save your joy at discovering the wonders of our facility later. Everyone come over here. Agent Gibbs," she didn't need to turn around for Gibbs to picture the serious expression on her face- her voice made it all too evident, "I think you're going to want to see this…"

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!!! I know this is kind of short, but the next chapter WILL be longer and have A LOT of important stuff in it, so hit the 'review' button!**


	5. The Blood Devils

The agents gathered around the large screen. Multiple moving pictures popped up on it- video tapes running recorded copies of what had been stored on the USB. The picture hiccupped once and then began running smoothly.

"This is the security footage that was running at the time the naval base went dark." McGee explained. "Now with circumstances like this the circuits in the surveillance cameras would be totally damaged beyond repair, but with this technology we were able to reconstruct the footage. These cameras should be able to tell us what happened at the time the base went silent."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, watching the screen carefully. "What the hell is that?"

His eyes focused like a laser on the left-most screen- though the footage was rather grainy there was still a viable picture coming through; this one portrayed the exterior of the mess hall with the walkway that was just to the left of the building. A large oval case with a clear top, big enough to fit a man inside, lay next to the building.

His attention was caught by a flash of movement at the side of the screen. A second later a figure walked across in front of the building- the figure seemed to be of average size, though its getup made it impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman; a dark black special ops-like military suit with a balaclava of the same colour and a set of what appeared to be night-vision goggles strapped around its head, positioned on its forehead just above its eyes. The figure was carrying a large military assault rifle, though Gibbs couldn't tell the precise make, with a pistol strapped to its right side and belt, likely containing spare magazines and probably a lot of other equipment as well. The position of the camera, as well as the position and outfit of the individual, however, made it impossible to get a close up view of its face, the team leader noted in disappointment.

Then something else caught Gibbs eye. "Stop the tapes right there!" He ordered sharply. McGee quickly paused the footage. "Zoom in on the right shoulder of the individual on the upper left screen."

McGee complied and pressed a couple of keys. The picture zoomed in on the aforementioned area. Gibbs narrowed his eyes; there was something on the right shoulder of the individual- something that looked like it had been sewn into the suit, but it was impossible to tell exactly what it was due to the low lighting and grainy texture.

"What is that?"

McGee frowned, narrowing his own eyes in concentration. "Is that some kind of symbol, boss?"

Gibbs answered with another instruction. "Can you clear that image up? Brighten it up and remove all that grainy stuff."

"Uh, hold on boss." McGee set to work, clacking away the keys. About a minute passed, with no other sound filling the room. Then, just as Gibbs was about to ask him what was taking so long, the junior field agent gave a triumphant cry. "Got it!"

The picture in question quickly cleared up, the colours becoming richer, the texture becoming stronger. The image was clearly made visible to everyone in the room. McGee had been right- it was indeed a symbol; an insignia that had been sewn into the material of the suit portraying two crossed flaming katanas. Gibbs frowned- he had never seen this symbol before; definitely wasn't a military symbol- that was for sure. His unasked question of exactly what that symbol meant was answered by Stephanie's stunned tone.

"My God." Stephanie took a step toward, her eyes focused like a sniper on the screen. "I think that's a Blood Devil."

Gibbs remained focused on the screen, his mind trying to process the information; he racked his brains in an attempt to recall anything in his life that might remind him of that name, but he couldn't think of anything; nothing from NCIS or the Marines. It was a complete blank for him.

Tony's slightly incredulous tone penetrated the room. "Blood Devil? What's that? Some kind of freaky, satanic cult?"

His question was answered by Nigel's low, solemn voice. "They're a military-like group from somewhere beyond the North American east coat." His eyes, like Stephanie's, were locked onto the screen. "Only a handful of people have actually seen one in person."

"Our intelligence on them is extremely limited." Stephanie added. "Apart from the mere fact that they existed, we had very little information on them. We certainly didn't consider them to be involved in the disappearances of the naval personnel- until now."

"What exactly do you know about them?" Gibbs asked.

"Personally? Very little. From what we can tell, they almost never work side by side with other groups, and any alliances they do have appear to be indirect. It's very rare that they should take on direct action like this; they almost always work through intermediaries, such as terrorist groups or militias in order to get what they're looking to obtain. If they do answer to anyone, we haven't found the slightest trace of it." She scratched beneath her chin. "Still, now that it appears they are indeed responsible for the attack, this is beginning to make more sense."

Gibbs eyes transferred to another screen to the right of the previous one. This one showed an oval case identical to the one in front of the mess hall, with its transparent lid wide open. From the top of the screen, two more black suited individuals appeared, carrying another motionless sailor by his limbs. They carefully tossed the sailor into the case, shut the lid and walked off screen again.

It was Ziva who posed the next question. "Why would you say that it makes more sense that they are involved now that you have seen them?"

"The Blood Devils have very advanced technology." Nigel replied. "Way more advanced than any group like them should have. Wherever or whomever they got it from has to have some deep pockets- and a serious agenda. I'm sure you've noticed at all the sights there were no signs of an attack? No bullets, no blood, and no bodies? That's just not natural- especially considering that navy personnel wouldn't go down without a fight. There's got to be some other explanation for that. The best explanation we can come up with is that the Blood Devils have some kind of weapon that can neutralize an entire base at once."

"Gibbs?" Abby turned to face the team leader. "What happened to the security system at this base, and at the other bases, was definitely powerful enough to fry all the defence systems, but I don't know anything that can do that _and_ affect human beings at the same time. Whatever burned the systems had to be something _really_ strong, like an electromagnetic pulse large enough to shut down the entire base at once."

"What are you getting at, Abs?"

"I'm getting at the fact that no _single_ weapon could do this; an EMP blast could easily disable all the security systems here, provided it was large enough, but there's no way it would harm living individuals. Whatever happened to kill the navy personnel, it had to be something else."

"The navy personnel weren't killed, Abby." Everyone turned their attention to McGee. Gibbs said sharply, "What do you mean they weren't killed, McGee?"

"Take a closer look at that sailor's face." He paused the second tape and zoomed in on the oval case, enlarging the section with the man's head in it, and then started the tape again. Everyone in the room gazed at his face; his eyes were still open, gazing into the stars. Though the man didn't move a muscle of his body, there was a definite feeling in the pit of everyone's stomach- as though they had an idea of what was going on but didn't want to interrupt the scene.

Then Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he saw it; the twitch back and forth in the man's eyes. He could almost feel it himself; the sailor was completely paralyzed, unable to move anything but his eyeballs, yet he could see and hear everything clearly.

There were several sharp intakes of breath from behind him. He looked over to see Abby wide-eyed, staring at the screen. "My God…" she murmured. "They weren't just abducted… they were… _trapped alive_ in those cases, unable to move or do anything to get out, yet they could see and hear everything that was going on around them! How…" she shook her head. "How did they end up like that?"

"Boss," Tony interjected. "The bottom screen."

Gibbs passed his attention over to the screen in question, which was noticeably larger than the others. This one showed the outdoor drill field, littered with oval cases. At least a dozen of the military-suit clad individuals, most helping to carry the cases, were in the process of crossing it when McGee paused the tape. Gibbs' eyes focused like a laser on the background and he saw it; though partially out of the frame, in the distance, he could see the outline of a large wing- suitable for a large passenger plane. Except that this one looked more like one you'd find on a fighter jet.

"Boss," McGee said slowly, following the ex-marine's stare, "is that…"

"Definitely looks like it, McGee." It would need to be enhanced and checked, but for Gibbs there seemed little doubt; the wing shown on this screen almost certainly belonged to a craft very similar to the ones that had ambushed him and his team and destroyed the Navy Yard. That immediately erased any lingering doubt he had that the attack on NCIS and the abduction of the navy personnel were not connected. At least now he had a name to go with the perpetrators.

"Hold on a second." Stephanie stepped up the screen. "Continue running the footage."

McGee complied and the video resumed its playing. Stephanie's eyes narrowed as she squinted at the screen. "Do you see what I see?" She motioned with her hand over a section of the screen that was portraying a clear section of the field.

Gibbs observed the area. At first he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but as he continued to gaze at it he became aware of what she was motioning to; the screen was shimmering back and forth in a way it shouldn't have been, even with the less than stellar quality.

"Agent McGee, can you switch the footage to thermal vision?" Stephanie asked.

"Sure, just give me a minute." It took him actually three quarters of a minute as McGee clattered away on the keyboard. The vision on the video tape switched over to the standard thermal mode, outlining the objects on the screen as heat signatures.

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "Woah! What is that?"

Gibbs leaned forward and observed what the ex-cop was referring to; the air enveloping the drill field was far warmer than it was supposed to be. There was no way in hell that normal air in this situation would conduct heat like that, even with a large aircraft nearby.

"_That_ DiNozzo is the reason all the personnel of the base are still alive but unable to offer any resistance." The team leader replied. "That air isn't the result of the jet's emissions or any global warming. In fact, I'm almost dead certain that isn't air at all."

"Paralytic gas." Ziva said seriously from behind him.

Tony turned to her. "Seriously?"

"It would make sense." Stephanie replied. "Especially as a means of incapacitating an entire base at once; release clouds of paralyzing fumes onto the area, and then simply pick up the personnel afterwards without having to worry about any resistance afterwards."

Gibbs turned to the forensic scientist. "Abby? Is that possible?"

Abby bit her lip. "I can't say for certain without direct analysis. But the theory isn't completely crazy. If this was a type of nerve toxin in large enough quantities, then it could be a definite means of neutralizing every last person on the base."

"And if the Blood Devils are as advanced as they allegedly are," McGee interjected, "then it would not be surprising that they could obtain something like this. They got hold of those strange cruisers, didn't they?"

Gibbs sighed and ran a hand over his eyes before turning back to Stephanie. "Are you sure you don't have any other information on the Blood Devils?"

"Nobody seems to know much about them." Nigel replied. "They're so rare that most governments and intelligence agencies don't even believe they exist."

"What concerns me most is why they're attacking naval bases across the world." Stephanie said thoughtfully. "And why from so many different countries? What can they possibly hope to gain from all this?"

Nigel shrugged. "Well, maybe now that we have a definitive answer the director will be able to fill in a few of the details."

Gibbs nodded to himself. "Seems like the best place to start. Alright, Abby archive that data footage in case we need to go back over it later. McGee, set up a comm link with Director Delcourt. We have a lot to talk about."

There was a duet of acknowledgements. Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the screen in front of him- at the dozens of heavily-armed figures on the screen.

If what these tapes proved to be true, he thought to himself, this mission was going to be a _hell_ of a lot harder than he thought…

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review! The next chapter will be just as interesting- I originally thought to join it with this chapter but then decided it would flow better if it was broken up. Don't worry- this story is going to have PLENTY of action!**


	6. Recruiting a Team

Director Delcourt leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. "Agent Gibbs- very good work with the surveillance footage from Camp Barry." He started, referring by name to the naval base in question. "The video archives sent to here to CSIS will be analyzed for any new information. I doubt we'll find that you missed anything substantial, but it's a start and we'll keep working on it until we've exhausted all resources. It's also a rather surprising action given the overwhelming and relentless nature of your country's intelligence operations."

Gibbs gave a semi-disapproving look and fixed the director with a stare. Even though the room he was in was empty- suggested by Stephanie in order to allow Gibbs the freedom to speak more at ease with the director- he still felt as if he was being choked by an external present force. "You ever think about cooperating for the greater good and not being so quick to criticize your allies so often?"

"Don't get me wrong, Gibbs; I have nothing but respect for the successes of the US intelligence services, but that hasn't always necessarily acted in our own personal interests. Cooperation and the sharing of information are great when they work in your favour, but significantly more difficult when your own operations and interests are hampered by those who are suspicious of even their closest friends. As a middle power sitting next to the world's most powerful state, we have to take whatever steps will enhance our own influence. But more importantly, you've confirmed that the Blood Devils were responsible for the attack on Camp Barry, which makes it all but certain that they are responsible for the abductions of navy personnel from around the world, as well as the attack on NCIS and your team."

"Confirmed it?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Why do I get the distinct impression that you already knew they were the ones behind the attacks?"

"I had my suspicions," the director replied, "but I had no proof of it being reality. I needed proof and that is what you offered with the surveillance footage. Believe me when I say that it was necessary; the Blood Devils are enigmatic and mysterious at best, and extremely dangerous to every single country in the world at worst. From what we can gather, they occasionally travel to conflict zones and hot spots, seeking out often seemingly unimportant items or individuals- usually in exchange for either money or certain pieces of their own technology. Most often they pay local rebel groups or mercenaries surprisingly large sums to obtain or capture them. When these transactions are completed, they withdraw in a startlingly quick manner, back somewhere to an unknown and uncharted area off the North American east coat. These strikes on navy bases are a surprising change in their behaviour; until now, we have had no documented cases of direct, frontline aggression by the Blood Devils."

"What exactly do you mean when you say 'an unknown and uncharted area off the North American east coast'?" Gibbs questioned. "What do we know about this area?"

"Only that its exact location besides between North America and Western Europe is completely unknown, and that _no one_ has successfully located it and returned alive to share the information." Delcourt said seriously. "Our best estimate as to why this is the case is that the area is well-known enough by the Blood Devils that they can navigate any potential dangers there safely. It's also possible that they have created or obtained their own defence system to defend a particular site within it, and that any non-familiar ships or aircraft entering the area are immediately destroyed by it. If that's indeed the case, then it lends credence to the theory that they have a connection with a significantly more powerful individual or organization."

"Their attacks on naval bases appear consistent enough," Gibbs said, "but NCIS was also hit by the Blood Devils. From what I understand they haven't hit any other investigative services- here or abroad. Any ideas why we got ambushed?"

"You're right- NCIS is the only non-naval group to get directly struck by the Blood Devils. If they do indeed answer to someone else, it may have been for any number of reasons. Obviously the US has one of the largest and most powerful navies in the entire world- that may have been enough for them to make sure that any of their operations on American soil went off without a hitch. Or it's possible they recognized your team's potential to hinder their plans, whatever those may be, and thought it best to take you out before you became too much of a threat. The fact that really concerns me," he went on thoughtfully, "is why they're bothering to abduct these naval personnel in the first place. Once they neutralize a base with this alleged paralytic gas you mentioned, why not just execute them right then and there?"

_That was just a little cold_, Gibbs thought to himself. Despite what he said, the director seemed to be less concerned with the fact that marines and sailors were being abducted than he made himself out to be. His words seemed to reflect an interest in the method that Gibbs didn't share. Maybe it came from being a marine- seeing death and destruction everywhere you go.

Aloud he said, "I get the feeling the Blood Devils are interested in something more than just the sheer joy of dealing with terrorist and rebel groups. What do they get from these deals?"

Delcourt gave a curt low chuckle. "The Blood Devils aren't very open and forthcoming about their motives and objectives, especially not when it comes to something like this. From what we've gathered, it seems that they generally seek out items that are made with very rare resources or individuals who possess a very rare or unique set of skills. The militant groups they hire to obtain these specimens are often paid in tremendous sums to do their job, and after they have what they want they leave. The thing is that they've never targeted a particular group, like naval personnel, before. And the number of people they had abducted prior to a few months ago was only a few dozen, as opposed to the thousands they've taken from the navies of countries across the world."

Gibbs frowned. "I still get the sense you're not being completely forward. That's not going to help us in the long run. Why do you keep suggesting that the Blood Devils answer to someone higher up? Do you know something you're not revealing?"

Delcourt replied simply, "The clues are in the facts, Agent Gibbs. The Blood Devils have technology that they shouldn't have anywhere near the resources necessary to acquire them; they have to be getting it from somewhere. The governments and intelligence agencies of most of the countries worldwide don't believe in the threat of the Blood Devils; many, including our own ones, believe the true threat lies with the so-called 'Global War on Terror' and that there are no upper echelon parties interested in committing acts of aggression for their own purposes." He nodded. "You and I know better than that. I'm not going to wait until whoever's pulling the strings have the capabilities to achieve their ultimate objectives; if we're going to stop them, then we'll need to take the fight to them."

"If you're suggesting that we launch an offensive attack," Gibbs said cautiously but strongly, "then I'm going to need a very strong team to succeed. Right now we're at a very low capacity with NCIS destroyed and most of its field agents killed. Even with Brewer and Warner I still only have five field agents I can command. Stopping an entire military group is going to require more than just a few skilled operatives."

"I'm fully aware of that Agent Gibbs. That's why I've had a list of operatives from around the world compiled and forwarded the dossiers of the best of them to you. Tracking them down and convincing them to join you in your mission will not be a straightforward task, but you're a natural leader and persuader; you'll be able to get the support you need. In the meantime, I'll continue to search for any leads into tracking the Blood Devils. The next time they make a move, I'll inform you of it; make sure you're ready."

Gibbs crossed his arms again. "A list of operatives from around the world? This isn't a free club where anyone can join Delcourt; I want people I can trust- people who I know can get the job done the right way, not random individuals picked out of a hat."

"I assure you Agent Gibbs- these individuals are the best you're going to get in the entire world. We can't spend the time training all the CSIS and ASIS agents at your location for field exercises such as these; all the individuals of whom I've forwarded dossiers to you will be very effective in the field. Not all of them are intelligence officers; as a matter of fact they come from a wide range of backgrounds and under normal circumstances would never ever be seen together in the same group. But special times call for special measures, and right now we can't afford to be picky about who we decide to allow to fight alongside us."

Gibbs frowned. For someone who was supposedly in charge of this mission he didn't feel like he had much say over what was going on. First being assigned intelligence officers from different countries as members of his team without even informing him and now being told to find and work alongside a group of unknowns to him from all across the globe. It reminded him of what Vance had occasionally done to him and it was really starting to piss him off.

Still, he knew the danger was real enough. The Blood Devils needed to be stopped once and for all; if that entailed gathering a team of specialists from around the world, he'd be an idiot to dismiss that.

"Alright, fine." He said finally. "I get your point. You just worry about tracking the Blood Devils. I'll find the people I need and make sure they're ready."

Delcourt leaned back in his chair and gave a satisfied nod. "Good."

He looked directly at Gibbs. "Before you go, there are two things you should know. First, head over to Langley, Virginia and find René Giguère. He's a brilliant French scientist currently under the employment of the CIA and one of the operatives I've sent you a dossier of. Our sources say he may be able to counteract the Blood Devils' paralyzing nerve toxin; if you ever run into them, it would be wise to have access to a feasible defence."

"Let me get this right." Gibbs said tersely. "First you tell me I'm in command of this entire operation and now, before I even set foot off this base, you're telling me where to go and what to do?"

"I'm giving you my opinion and which direction would be the wisest to take." Delcourt replied coolly. "What you do with them is entirely up to you. I trust you to make the right decisions as team leader."

Gibbs uncrossed his arms. "Okay. What's the second thing?"

"This mission is going to require you to travel around the globe in a short period of time. We've provided you and your team with an advanced aircraft in order to complete your objectives in the most efficient way possible."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the ensuing silence. "And?" He said rather impatiently, sensing that the director had something else to say.

"I've found an ideal pilot for such an aircraft; I understand he's one of the best our country can offer. And I have a strong feeling that you'd agree that he's someone you can trust."

The director reached forward and clicked off the screen.

Gibbs, still processing all the new information in his head, didn't hear the door behind him open. He only turned around when he heard the familiar, middle-aged but strong as ever voice speak up.

"Welcome back Gibbs." Lt-Col. Robert McCrae stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face. "Guess old habits die hard, eh?"

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!**


	7. The Gift to NCIS

"I can't believe it's actually you, McCrae." Gibbs shook his head as the two men passed through a large doorway up a set of stairs.

"Oh, like you're really one to talk about that!" McCrae said jokingly. "I don't hear a damn thing from you for two years then get the memo about you possibly being KIA. And now you're right here, back on your feet and stubborn as always."

"Lucky break." Gibbs replied. "And a timely outside intervention I wasn't expecting. Nothing spectacular or special marine survival training. How the hell did you get here?"

McCrae shook his head. "After that little fiasco with AISSEX a couple years ago, I just kind of drifted back into my old retirement life. Washington did nothing for me, Ottawa didn't want me back. You actually gave me the most excitement I'd had in about five years. Then CSIS comes calling me up and offered me the chance to work alongside the best in order to stop the abductions of our Navy personnel…"

"You knew about the naval abductions?"

"I've been a military man for twenty-five years, Gibbs. When over a hundred members of MARCOM suddenly go missing without a trace, people like me hear about it. When a US Navy base gets blown up, that tends to get my attention. And when the director of CSIS calls me and tells me that I can work alongside the recently resurfaced Leroy Jethro Gibbs and his team to stop these attacks, I compared it to sitting on a park bench drinking a coffee every day- decided why the hell not? Ottawa's far too preoccupied looking out for their own asses and basically said I wasn't worth keeping around. So hell yeah, I signed on."

"As a pilot?" Gibbs' tone was noticeably surprised.

"Of course- you're sure that blast didn't screw up your memory, Gibbs? Fifteen years as part of AIRCOM didn't go in one ear and out the other. Delcourt said they were in need of a superior pilot and that I fit the bill. Hell of a surprise to hear you were actually still alive and in charge of this op."

"You actually trust Delcourt to make good decisions regarding work to be done in the field?" Gibbs questioned.

McCrae shrugged. "Well, I've never trusted the CSIS upper echelon to handle military style operations, but right now they're the best we're going to get. And they haven't gotten off to a bad start, have they? Saved your stubborn ass, gave me the chance to have one last mission…"

The two men reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto landing. The area was one long stretch of hallway; the wall opposite the way they'd just come through was one large observation window overlooking what appeared to be a hangar of some type. Tony, Ziva, McGee and Abby were all glued to the window, looking eagerly out of it.

Tony turned towards Gibbs as he and McCrae walked up, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Boss, it's abso-lut-ely incredible! I mean, it's like _Star Trek_ incredible! It's more incredible than Denzel-Washington-in-_Training-Day_ incredible! It's…" His rant was cut off by Abby's own exclaims of delight.

"It's bigger than all the Dope concerts in the world put together Gibbs, and _that_ is über-big! This may be the biggest thing I've seen since Slipknot's Mega Tour a few years back! It's… it's…"

"It is the ideal thing for such an important mission." Ziva's voice was filled with awe despite the neutral, business statement she made.

"It's… incredible, boss." McGee's voice was even more in awe than Ziva's.

"…and then there's this." McCrae finished, nodding towards the window. He crossed his arms. "They just showed it to me last night."

Gibbs stepped up to the window and peered through; when he did, his eyebrows went up.

When Delcourt had told him they had given him a top-notch plane for this mission, he had expected something in the form of a transport carrier like the C-17 Globemaster III or even a C-130 Hercules.

He had _not_ expected to see a large aircraft with the form of a fighter jet and the size of a transport carrier parked right outside the window in the hangar. His mind quickly searching, he recognized the same standard shape as the CF-18 Hornet fighter jet, except this one was much bigger. Stainless silver in colour, about as big as a standard Globemaster, it had the streamlined shape of a fighter with curved, angled wings, a small but wide-viewing cockpit wing and a series of smaller windows about halfway down the side of the craft. On the wings, he could make out the unmistakable form of numerous mini-guns; on the underside of the cockpit was another weapon-like feature he didn't recognize, but there was no mistaking the Canadian flag just under the cockpit window. One thing was for sure; this was sure as hell not any private VIP jet.

"Pretty impressive, eh?" McCrae asked the marine sniper.

Gibbs nodded in agreement. "I've never seen anything like this before. I mean, yeah I've seen some of the latest military models for the USAF but never anything like this."

"That's because it's never been shown to anyone else before now." Stephanie and Nigel appeared alongside the rest of the team, the former having given the statement in a standard business-like manner. "This aircraft right here is the latest design of the Canadian Forces fighter program; the CF-21 Thunderbird, designed for both stealth and flight combat. On board, there is a host of facilities including a debriefing room, combat training area, rest quarters and field preparation room that also serves as weapon storage."

"I'm surprised you were able to fit everything on board so smoothly." McCrae remarked.

"We had to pull virtually every favour we had with the military in order to obtain it, sir- but I'm sure you'll appreciate the necessity for the only the best for this mission." She turned and looked Gibbs right in the eye. "I only accept the best."

Gibbs merely replied, "I have no doubt."

"Well, this bad boy right here just fits the DiNozzo style." Tony gave a Cheshire grin. "Sleek, smooth, virtually unlimited power- virtually the entire package."

"Speaking of packages," Ziva interjected, "did you not say once, Tony, you were missing your package?"

"No, that was you threatening to do that after you caught him snooping through your desk once, Ziva." McGee explained.

"I know McGee- but I believe Tony may have needed a reminder if he was drifting off into a train of thought outside of the mission."

"And just what train of thought could I _possibly_ be thinking of instead of the mission, Zee-vah?"

_Thwack!_

"Ouch! Sorry boss…oh." Tony turned around and saw that the deliverer of his latest head slap had not been the ex-marine, but rather stared into the cool face of Stephanie Brewer. "Sorry Steph."

Tony's reward for those two words was another head slap from Stephanie, this one harder than the last. "That's Officer Brewer to you, Agent DiNozzo- don't think you can charm your way into my good graces. We may have need of your abilities, but I neither need nor want your childish games. Call me 'Steph' again, and you'll be on your ass so fast you won't have time blink." She looked him dead in the eye. "Is that clear?"

Tony nervously cleared his throat. "Perfectly, Officer Brewer."

Gibbs audibly cleared his own. "Good. If everyone's finished thinking about playing 'grab ass' or killing those that are, can we get on board?"

There were no objections to the sniper's suggestion, and soon all of them were in the hangar and climbing on board the Thunderbird. McCrae immediately headed up to the cockpit and Gibbs took a moment to go into the cockpit to check for himself while the rest of the team piled in.

"Wow!" He heard Tony exclaim. "Talk about luxury! These Canadians really know how to do things in style, don't they?"

"As I said, it's standard procedure Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie replied. "The biggest missions require the best technology; that's what we have right here."

Nigel came up to the cockpit. "Agent Gibbs, everything's prepped for take-off. You decide where we go; just give the word and we'll be set."

"We're heading to Langley, Virginia, Officer Warner." Gibbs replied without turning around. "Director Delcourt said if we ever run into the Blood Devils, it'd be good to have a feasible defence against their paralyzing nerve toxin. If what he says is true, we need to find René Giguère- see if he's able to deliver up a suitable counter-measure. Get all the dossiers together and wait for me in the field prep room."

The Australian nodded. "Yes, sir." He walked away.

Gibbs turned his full attention back to the cockpit. "Hey McCrae," he said to the Canadian, "not that I question your experience as a pilot, but do you really think you can fly a brand new prototype all by yourself?"

"Oh I won't be flying this thing alone, Gibbs." McCrae replied as he flicked on the necessary switches and turned on the engine. "I'm going to be having one of the most energetic people in the damn world serving as the co-pilot of this vessel; if we can't get it done with her at the helm, we may as well call it quits right now."

"Who?"

Gibbs question was answered by the sound of footsteps moving into the cockpit. A second later, he was stunned into silence at the sight of the wide smiling face and rigid, mock salute.

"Reporting for duty, Lt.-Col. McCrae." Abby said.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!**

**Just FYI: MARCOM refers to Canadian Forces Maritime Command (Canadian Navy) and AIRCOM refers to Canadian Forces Air Command (Canadian Air Force). They are the real life respective navy and air force of Canada. All the aircraft mentioned in this chapter (except the CF-21 Thunderbird- that's my own creation for this story) are real life aircraft in use by the Canadian Forces. **


	8. The Geek, the Cop and the Thawing of Ice

**A/N: As I'm sure you've noticed, I've added the Tony/Ziva pairing onto this story. While this will primarily be a team-centred fic, there will be elements to this pairing in it. But you'll have to keep reading this story in order to see it. I won't say any more; especially considering the genres this story is set at.**

McGee quickly hurried down the bow of the ship, eager to put some distance between him and the cockpit. Gibbs' raised voice was still ringing in his ears as loudly as it had been when the ex-marine had found out that Abby had been assigned as co-pilot to the Thunderbird without his prior knowledge. The heated points about 'undermining authority' and 'no experience' were burned firmly into his memory, while McCrae responded that he would be the one to fly the ship primarily but Abby would be a suitable co-pilot should the need arise and was a fast learner. When Gibbs argued that Abby would be needed back in the science lab at the main base, Nigel had intervened and claimed that if what René Giguère's dossier said was true, he would likely require every amount of lab space in order to develop a defence against the Blood Devils' paralyzing toxin, and as the ex-sniper had turned his wrath towards the Australian McGee had made a quick exit down the bow towards the back of the ship.

He had to admit that this aircraft was very highly advanced from what he had seen so far. Even though he was not an expert on aircraft, it was clear that much thought and work had been put into making this a force to be reckoned with. Then again this was a mission that would require the most advanced technology money could buy, and if the Canadian Forces were willing to lend their brand new prototype to them for it, then all the better. He wondered how long it would take the US Air Force to come up with a similar type of aircraft.

As for right now, he was occupied trying to locate the best place to make himself useful. It was clear that the bulk of the technical stuff that could be done on this mission could only be done back at the facility and there was little stuff he could get done related to that here on the ship. Not that he would trade sitting behind at the station behind a computer for going off into the field in order to stop the attacks on the Navy; he was long past the time where he just stayed at NCIS looking for suspects through the system. But it was a little different serving on a military-esque ship; he had already changed out of his suit into a dark aircraft/field combat suit that Stephanie had said everyone, including Gibbs, had to wear in the field. Even though it was just a little bulky on him, it wasn't very heavy; the material, Stephanie had claimed, may have been light, but it was very strong and durable. That was alright for him, as it had helped him take his mind off the takeoff- his airsickness, fortunately, had already settled down.

Coming to the end of the corridor, the junior agent halted as he was confronted with the sight of two solid sliding doors, one on the left and one on the right. McGee hesitated; he hadn't had a chance to look over the schematics, if they even existed, for this aircraft and he had no idea as to what lay behind either of them. He certainly didn't want to go walking into, say a live shooting range; but he would be damned if he was going to merely stand around waiting to reach Langley.

His eyes moving back and forth for another moment, he finally settled on the door on the right and stepped up to it; the door automatically separated into two halves and opened up, and he stepped right through.

McGee's first view of the room, which lasted only a second, was one of a large circular area covered by a mat and a large punching bag hanging on the far end. However, he didn't get a chance to take in the room in greater detail as a second later he felt himself being suddenly and aggressively flipped through the air, landing heavily on his back with his arm being painfully twisted to the side and a knee right in his windpipe, cutting off his air supply.

His first thought was that he had walked in and surprised Ziva, who was well known for her alertness and quick reactions, especially when it came to someone who had caught her off guard. However, it was a different female voice that spoke up a moment later- one that didn't offer him any more comfort than if it had been Ziva's that he heard.

"Agent McGee?"

The knee eased up the pressure on his throat and he felt the pain in his arm recede. Opening his eyes, he stared up and saw the pale, sweaty face of Stephanie Brewer, clad in a short, black tank top and matching long, workout pants. The Canadian was staring down at him in a rather confused and surprised manner. "What are you doing here?"

McGee took a breath and tried to answer as his lungs filled with welcoming air. "I- I was touring the ship before we landed in Langley. There's not much up front so I was trying to see if there was anything I could take a look at back here…" He stopped for another breath of air.

"So you thought you'd stop by and take a look at me out of my business wear during combat simulation?" Stephanie's tone was only half business-like reproachful; if McGee had been listening closer, he would have realized that there was a slight hint of amusement in it. But the junior agent was so busy focusing on getting air in his lungs that he didn't catch it.

"No!" He said quickly, as though the slightest hesitation on his part would be met with more pain courtesy of the CSIS officer. "No, of course not! I just… I had no idea this what this place was or that you were in here. I wouldn't… wouldn't have…"

"You had no intention of walking in on me while I was dressed like this sharpening my hand-to-hand?"

"No- absolutely not!"

"So you don't find women who are hard at work toning their bodies and their fighting skills so they're as effective as their male counterparts in the field attractive?"

"No. I mean- yes! I mean… I find fit women very attractive, so therefore I find you very attractive. Um, not that I've looked or anything but…" He trailed off.

"Because I could kick your ass and have you on the ground before you could blink?"

"Technically you've already done that, haven't you?"

"This?" She indicated the position he was in. "Oh this is nothing; a simple instinct-driven takedown procedure from Depot."

"Depot?"

"RCMP Training Academy in Regina."

McGee suppressed a shudder. "If that's a standard takedown move, I'd hate to experience the more advanced moves they teach you."

"Trust me- that little position you were in is nothing compared to some of the other things I've been taught. Give me enough room on a person's neck and I could have a three hundred pound man stunned on the ground in a matter of seconds." She stood up and reached down with her hand to help him up.

"Now you're starting to sound like Ziva." McGee remarked as he grabbed her hand; she pulled him up with very little effort.

"Not exactly true, Agent McGee; Agent David was trained to interrogate and kill terrorists. I was trained to interrogate and apprehend criminals with minimal bloodshed. The very first thing I am at heart, besides a Canadian, is a cop; I was trained as a cop, I worked as a cop, I killed as a cop." She turned away. "It's hard to imagine me saying this aloud, but there are moments where I wish I'd died as a cop." She turned and walked towards the other side of the room.

"But you work for CSIS." McGee said, trying very hard to avoid staring at her perfectly toned ass lest he be caught again. "Technically you're working to stop terrorists just like Ziva is- or was when she was still with Mossad. I find it hard to imagine you don't use the skills you've learned in the field to help stop terrorist threats to Canada."

"It certainly helps to know how to take care of yourself when you could be abroad or in situations that could turn violent at any moment." Stephanie replied as she retrieved a white towel from around a metal bar. "Unfortunately, it's rarely needed; CSIS runs field operations but we're not Mossad or the CIA. No agent will ever make an arrest and the vast majority of an officer's job involves sitting in an office analyzing information to pass onto other agencies like the RCMP or the Border Services." Keeping her back to him, she began to mop the sweat of her face. "I'm a rare exception; the only reason I'm permitted a weapon and sent out onto missions such as these is because of my background. Without my years as a cop and an ERT officer, I probably would never be in CSIS; desk work is definitely not my style."

McGee could understand that; in the short time he'd known her he got the distinct impression that this was a woman who was used to being actively involved in whatever business she was a part of. Sitting on the sidelines at a desk while watching others traditionally take the lead roles in the field- it was something he could relate to, especially during his early tenure at NCIS. Even though he no longer felt he was playing second fiddle to Tony and Ziva, he could understand the frustration at being left out of the action.

"Why did you decide to join the RCMP?" He asked in genuine interest.

She turned around to face him, turning the towel onto her arms. "Still trying to get inside my head, Agent McGee?"

He felt his face flush red and then mentally kicked himself for not remembering her earlier stance towards him asking questions about her. _Damn it, when am I going to learn that sometimes it's better not to know too much! Especially if it involves pissing off a cop who could probably snap you in two in a heartbeat. And she probably could with her… her… wow, are those abs for real?_

McGee's attention was abruptly cut short as he caught sight of Stephanie's stomach; while not completely overt, there was no mistaking the toned definition of her abs muscles that would probably make Abby jealous, Ziva envious and Tony drool all over the floor. It was taking a lot of self-control to keep himself from drooling all over the floor.

"Uh, no! No, I was just trying to make conversation! I'm just curious, that's all. If you truly don't want to talk about it…"

"And why would you give up easily, McGee?" Stephanie inquired with a furrowed brow. "Isn't part of your job at NCIS to figure out the truth no matter what obstacles are put in your way?"

"Well, yes but… this isn't a case for NCIS and you're not a suspect. This is your own personal background and if you don't want to reveal anything then that's fine. Besides, what about all that you said about not wanting to become blossom buddies and share war stories?"

Stephanie gave a slight smirk. "You remember that. I'm surprised you would considering you spent most of the time back in the Communications Room staring at my ass." She bent down to pick up a bottle of water. "Kind of like how you were staring at my abs just now. Is there something about my body you find particularly fascinating?"

McGee cleared his throat nervously. "Um- no, I just… I guess I'm just interested in how you keep your body in such great shape. I mean, I've never seen a woman whose abs were… were- like yours."

"A strict diet and training regiment, Agent McGee- one that works all muscles of the body. Perhaps if you're so interested in how I stay in shape, I could show you how sometime- personally."

"Well, I…"

"It's no trouble. I usually start with about fifty push-ups and a hundred crunches on one day. Different days I work different muscle groups- except for abs which I do three times a week. It's part of a wide variety of exercises that rarely allow any of my muscles to become too used to the routine. And that's not including what hand-to-hand training does your overall physique. With the proper time, I could have your ass whipped up into shape Canadian-style." She gave another smirk and took a long sip of water.

McGee swallowed, watching the sweat glisten off her neck as she drank from the bottle. "Well listen, that's very kind of you to offer that Stephanie, but I'm not sure I…"

She opened a surprised eye and lowered the bottle. McGee instantly felt beads of sweat form on his forehead as he realized what he had just said. "Officer Brewer, I mean! I'm sorry- that just… slipped out! I didn't mean to call you that! I just… just…"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him. "And just what makes you think you need to apologize for that, McGee?"

"Well, uh…" McGee fumbled for words, not even trying to back away from the approaching CSIS officer. "You told Tony that if he referred to you by your first name, you'd… take him down in a heartbeat…"

"Wrong, Agent McGee." By now the distance between them had practically been reduced to zero. "I told Agent DiNozzo that if he ever called me Steph, he'd be on his ass so fast he wouldn't have time to blink." She leaned in close to him. "And judging what you've experienced, would you not say that I'm fully capable of that?"

He swallowed hard again, but stood his ground. "Definitely."

She shot him a sideways look. "And yet you said my first name as easily as if you'd been saying it for a long time."

"It was a slip of the tongue."

"Was it?" She moved so she was practically nose-to-nose to him; her warm breath that flowed onto his face and neck sent a slight shiver down his spine. "Are you sure you're not just looking for an early hand-to-hand lesson with me?"

McGee stood straight up and looked her dead in the eye. "Officer Brewer, I'm not trying to piss you off and I have no intention of trying to provoke a combat situation with you- mostly because it wouldn't be helpful in getting us any closer to stopping these naval abductions but also for the reason of pure common sense; I get into hand-to-hand with you and I'll more than likely end up on the ground with a load of pain shooting through my body."

Stephanie regarded him for a moment. "True," she conceded, "but to do that even though you are aware of what that could possibly mean for you is rather… impressive." She shrugged. "Maybe you're not half as shy and timid as I believed you were, McGee."

He stared at her for a second before she went on. "Oh, surely you should know that CSIS did full background checks on each one of you prior to waking you up? We like to know who we're dealing with; it helps save a headache later on. For a man who was a mere probational agent from the Cyber Crimes unit before joining Gibbs' team, you've really come a long way. That may yet prove to be useful."

She backed off and crossed the room to pick up a large gym bag. "You're quite the brave soul, Agent McGee; I really should give you credit for that. And since you didn't back down and cower when a 'real' woman is right in your face, I'll let you in on a little secret."

"You, giving out secrets?" McGee asked before he could stop himself, but Stephanie merely smirked.

"You spread that around and I'll be forced to kill you." She said joking- at least he _thought_ it was jokingly. "Truth be told, the real reason I gave Agent DiNozzo the warning I did was because I want him to understand that his boyish charms are wasted on me. He may think himself a womanizer and God's gift to the female of the species, but I can fairly say that he is not up to my challenge."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "Your challenge?"

"I decided long ago that men are not an important factor in my life, but I've never let go of the tiny hope that I would one day find one that offers me enough of a challenge to make me change my mind; Agent DiNozzo is not up to that. Besides I get the distinct impression that his efforts would always be half-hearted, considering that he seems to be preoccupied with another one. Agent David seems to be offering him quite the challenge herself."

McGee cleared his throat cautiously. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about that, Officer Brewer."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow of her own. "Of course you wouldn't." She said in a tone that clearly reflected scepticism and unbelieving. "But you're not DiNozzo, Agent McGee, so it wouldn't be fair to treat you the same as I do him. Since you're neither cowardly enough to back down from looking at me face to face nor stupid enough to try to impress me with boyish charms and immaturity like DiNozzo, I'll let you have a free pass; you're free to call me Stephanie if you like. Not Steph, you got it? Call me Steph and I will personally kick your ass from here to Antarctica. Do you understand?"

McGee quickly nodded. "Perfectly Officer Brew- Stephanie."

She gave a hint of a smile but didn't say anything more. After a minute, McGee said, "You're not going to ask to call me Tim?"

"If I want to call you Tim, I'll call you Tim." It was a statement, pure and simple, and McGee found himself nodding in agreement. Stephanie went on, "You were asking about why I joined the RCMP earlier. I guess you deserve to know something since you're so damn nice and friendly. The short version? I grew up a red-blooded, patriotic Canadian and wanted to see Canada take its rightful place as a leader on the world stage. I wanted to help it along the way as best I can. Certain… circumstances convinced me the best way to do that was to join the national police force and take a strong stance."

McGee looked at her expectantly. "And the long version?"

"The long version, Agent McGee, is something you'll have to earn my trust to hear." She took a few steps towards the door before pausing. "It's not that I don't trust you to do what's right or that you'd jeopardize the mission, but I've learned the hard way that you can't afford to tell everything you know to someone you've just met. My trust is earned, and if you want to earn it, you'll have to fight for it. That's all I'm going to say."

She stepped towards the door and just as it slid open McGee called out, "Does that include fighting in combat simulation, Stephanie?"

She paused in the doorway, and then said rather amusedly over her shoulder, "A good try, Agent McGee; very clever. But it's going to take more than just a casually dropped remark like that to crack me."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She looked over her shoulder and he saw the amused, self-confident look on her face. "One of my many specialities in the RCMP was breaking criminals quickly in interrogation. I've broken men like outlaw bikers and serial killers in a matter of minutes. And I've also learned how to resist being interrogated or coerced by professionals. Give me the right circumstances and I'll have you confessing to anything with in five minutes- with my thighs."

McGee blinked. "I'm… I'm sorry? Your _thighs_?"

A hint of a suggestive look came into her eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Agent McGee; everything I do in my line of work is purely business. Unless…" she raised an eyebrow, "I say otherwise- Tim."

She turned and strode out, leaving McGee with significantly more sweat on his body than he had had when he first entered. If what she'd said was true, he thought to himself, he'd better make sure he didn't land on the bad side of one of her interrogations.

He wasn't sure what would crack him first; her interrogation skills- or any alternative…

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!**

**What do you people think of Stephanie as a character so far? There's a lot more to her (there's a lot more to ALL the special characters, most of which you haven't met yet) but what are your impressions so far? Give me detailed reviews (characters, plot, etc.)- it just might encourage me to update faster!**


	9. Dossier of the Scientist

_**Langley, Virginia, United States, 17:28 EST- 20 miles outside Langley Air Force Base**_

"I don't understand why the military would name an air force base after a city if the base isn't actually _in_ the city." Tony remarked unexpectedly as he, Ziva, Gibbs, McGee, Stephanie and Nigel sped in a black SUV along the George Washington Memorial Parkway towards their destination of the CIA's headquarters. "I mean, technically it's in Hampton, so why wouldn't it be called Hampton Air Force Base. To me, that just doesn't make any sense."

"To you Tony, I am sure many things do not make sense." Ziva said teasingly.

"Oh, that's real funny, Zee-vah. Real mature of you to start up with trying to tick me off. Well I'm telling you right now that it's _not_ going to work! I survived being blown to pieces by a giant air cruiser or whatever that thing was that looked like it came straight out of one of McGee's video games and there is absolutely nothing you can say or do that's going to rain on my parade."

Ziva furrowed her brow. "But it is not raining here and there is no sign of a parade."

"It's an expression, Ziva." McGee explained. "It means to bring someone's high spirits down."

"If that is indeed the case McGee, then I have succeeded many, many times at raining on Tony's parade- particularly when he has an inflated opinion of himself."

"Hey! I'll have you know that every time I claim to have accomplished something major- and I'll admit there's been quite a few- it's always been the truth! Contrary to what you might think, I rarely exaggerate anything I've done. You can't accuse me of having a big head!"

"Of course not, Tony- that would imply that you have a big brain in your head as well."

"_Very_ funny, Zee. At least I don't go around with a melon swollen to the size of McGee's; now _that_ would just be a travesty and an irremovable stain on the DiNozzo legacy."

_Thwack!_

"Thank you Officer Brewer- you saved me the effort." Ziva commented.

"Not at all." The Canadian replied coolly. "I just had the sudden feeling it was necessary to clear the van of a lot of hot air and annoying noise."

There were a series of snickers in the SUV- one from just behind Stephanie which sounded suspiciously like McGee and one from the front passenger seat which was currently occupied by Nigel; the Australian was making a major effort to try to look as though he hadn't been listening in. Tony tried turning all around in his seat to fix glares on both men, but since he couldn't catch either of their glances he was forced to settle for leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms in a pouting fashion. Ziva and Stephanie exchanged amused looks.

"There's no need to be such a sore loser, Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie said in a half-reproachful, half-teasing manner. "You look like a child who doesn't want anyone else to share his toy and only wants to play with it himself."

"I believe there have been many nights when Tony has been forced to play with himself." Ziva quipped, giving a very un-Ziva like wink.

"Alright, that's it!" Tony shot angry looks between the two women. "I've just about had it up to here with…"

"Hey!" Everyone stopped talking as a thunderous voice from the driver's seat echoed throughout the van. "Knock it off back there- all of you! I've just about had it up to here myself! We're supposed to be federal agents on a serious operation, not immature students at a junior high school- _act_ like federal agents! That goes double for you, DiNozzo!"

"But boss, how can I possibly concentrate on this op when I've got these two…" He gestured wildly. "… I don't even know _what_ to call them making up non-existent stories about me every moment of the trip?"

"Would you prefer that we stop joking around and be serious, Agent DiNozzo?" Stephanie's eyes suddenly narrowed and became dangerous. "I'm sure there are many things I could show you when I'm in a serious mood."

"Indeed." Ziva said in the same tone. "I have no doubt many of them would leave a… _lasting_ impression on you."

"That's enough out of all of you." Gibbs growled from the driver's seat. "Tony, sit back and don't talk for the rest of the trip; I'm starting to get a headache from all this nonsense."

"But boss…"

"Would you rather I stopped the van right here and dealt with it myself?"

"Uh, boss? We're going a hundred miles an hour surrounded by cars on a busy parkway."

"Your point, DiNozzo?"

"Shutting up now, boss."

"Good." Stephanie leaned forward. "With him opening his mouth every two seconds, I'd thought we'd never get time to go over the dossier before we arrived."

"I already briefed Agent Gibbs on the subject's dossier before we arrived, ma'am." Nigel responded.

"But you didn't do so for the rest of the team, Nigel." Stephanie replied. "If we're going to function as a unit, we're going to need to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses. Director Delcourt didn't randomly select these individuals from a hat; each and every one of them can contribute well in the field. Go over the dossier."

"Who exactly _is_ this French scientist we're picking up?" McGee asked from the back. "I hear it's someone who can offer us a solution to this paralyzing gas that was used to hit the other naval bases. Is that true?"

"Hopefully, yes." Nigel pulled up a screen from a miniature laptop in front of him. "Professor René Giguère. Born in Nice- April 23, 1958. Graduated from the University of Nice Sophia Antipolis in 1978 at age twenty with a major in Biochemistry. That spells bloody genius to me. Worked in Paris as a research assistant for three years and then moved into another job for the French government which was very well and highly classified. Didn't surface again until three years ago when we learned he was recruited by the CIA- something concerning the study of bioterrorism."

"Uh, not to question CSIS's ability to choose good talent boss," Tony interjected cautiously, "but I thought you said the director told you that all these recruits would be highly useful in the field. And the way I'm hearing it, this guy would just be useful in a lab, not trying to gun down terrorists or anything like that. I mean, apart from smarts, what else can we get from a scientist?"

"Oh, he's far more than just a scientist." Stephanie replied. "He _is_ going to be highly useful in the field- you can take my word on that."

"How can you be so sure?" Ziva asked the Canadian.

"That government job that is so highly classified?" She drew herself up. "It was in the counter-terrorism field. Professor Giguère is a former field officer in the DGSE."

While Ziva understood immediately and nodded to indicate as much, Tony and McGee, the former especially, did not and stared at Stephanie in confusion.

"_Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure_."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"General Directorate for External Security." Tony still did not seem to get it; Stephanie let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "French intelligence. Paris' version of the CIA."

"Oh! Right! Got it… I think." Tony turned towards Ziva, who looked sympathetically over to Stephanie. "Do not stress yourself, Officer Brewer; Tony barely speaks English properly. Asking him to understand French or anything relating to intelligence is simply far too much."

"Oh, like you're one to talk about speaking English properly." Tony muttered.

"Professor Giguère has had much experience working in the field on dangerous operations." Nigel interjected. "We don't have a complete list- even between intelligence agencies, information is limited- but we know for a fact that for the type of mission we're going on, he'll be an excellent asset."

"Yeah, but how can you be so sure the CIA will just voluntarily let him come along with us?" McGee asked from the back. "I mean, they recruited him for a reason, didn't they? I'm not so sure this'll be as easy as you make it out to be. What if they decide to not let him go with us?"

Everyone was pressed back into their seats as Gibbs pressed down hard on the accelerator. Looking straight ahead, the senior agent replied simply, "Then I guess we'll just have to _convince_ them, McGee."

**NCIS**

_**CIA Headquarters- Langley, Virginia, United States, 17:43 EST**_

As the group approached the front of the building, Gibbs was a little surprised to see armed soldiers standing guard outside. It didn't surprise him so much that the building was heavily guarded- when you're the external intelligence service of the world's most powerful country, you tend to take some precautions. What surprised him was that it was military personnel who were standing on guard. The way Gibbs understood it, the CIA like to get involved with the military as little as possible- probably had something to do with the fact that most of the stuff that they did would result in court martial and military prison had it been done in the armed forces. So why would they employ soldiers outside their central building?

One of the soldiers held up a hand as the group approached. "Halt! This is a secure facility! Non-personnel are not permitted here!"

Gibbs had been expecting something like this, but it was still frustrating. "Federal agents- we have important business here." He flashed his ID- so did the rest of the group. "NCIS, CSIS and ASIS- we're here to pick up a particular individual in this facility."

"Sorry." The soldier repeated. "No can do."

"We're here with the authorization of the director of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service." Stephanie replied coolly. "You know- the Canadian counterpart of the agency whose building you're currently standing in front of? I suggest you get out of our way and allow us to pass through."

"Sorry, ma'am; I have my orders."

"And I have my priorities." Gibbs said dangerously. "Which I guarantee you trumps the importance of your orders, soldier. Now you can either step aside and let us to pass or we can see how well you've been keeping up with your hand-to-hand."

However, whether Gibbs' threat intimidated the young soldier would be unknown, for at that moment, the door behind him opened and a man in about his forties with dark hair and wearing a suit stepped outside. Looking directly at the team leader, he said, "Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs locked eyes with the man, whose whole demeanour practically oozed of being CIA; suited, self-confident, and slightly smug. "Yes? Who are you?"

"Agent Bill Rothwell. Director Delcourt at CSIS told us you would be coming." He motioned for the guard to let the group past and all of them stepped into the building.

The lobby was large but had quite a standard empty feeling. To anyone who didn't know better, it may as well have been the lobby of a large hotel; front desk, corridors leading every which way and a large staircase in the centre. Not very spy-like- that was on the minds of practically everyone of the newly arrived group.

"You'll have to excuse the guards out front; they have their orders to let no one into the building." Rothwell explained. "Things have been a little tense in the last little while."

"So tense that you have to assign US Army personnel to defend the external security intelligence agency's central building?" Gibbs questioned.

"We do what we have to in order to ensure security, Agent Gibbs." Rothwell replied coolly. "These are not easy times; we have to do what's necessary."

"With the CIA, it's never easy." Gibbs replied. "I'm not here to debate which security measures are necessary with you Agent Rothwell. We're here to pick up someone your agency's recruited; a French scientist by the name of René Giguère."

Rothwell stopped and turned to face the ex-Marine. "Professor Giguère? The former field officer in France's DGSE?"

"That's right." Gibbs was half-surprised Rothwell hadn't outright denied even knowing the Frenchman. "We need him on an important operation, so if you don't mind, we're going to pick him up and be on our way."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Agent Gibbs."

"Oh no, it's not." Gibbs fixed the CIA agent with a stare. "We have instructions from CSIS and I have my own priorities- both of them involve bringing Giguère with us. And I tend to take my priorities very seriously."

"No, you don't understand." Rothwell assigned Gibbs with a look of his own. "Professor Giguère was working in the bioterrorism wing on the lower level- doing highly classified and dangerous work."

"We know this already." Stephanie's impatient voice popped up. "Why is this preventing us from bringing him with us?"

"The last I checked, Giguère was still down in that wing. A few hours ago, there was a Level 5 lockdown in that section."

Rothwell shifted his glance back to Gibbs. "Level 5 lockdown means 'extremely hazardous and infectious biological contaminants loose in the area in question."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? PLEASE give me a DETAILED review (plot, new characters etc.) Anything! I love all reviews- regardless of what's in them!**


	10. DoubleCross

_**CIA Headquarters- Langley, Virginia, United States, 17:57 EST**_

"Agent Gibbs, you _cannot_ do this!" Rothwell shouted as he raced down just behind and beside the team leader on the stairs leading to the lower level; red lights flashed all around them, the indications of the crisis that was going on. "There is a lockdown in the bioterrorism wing which indicates the presence of extremely hazardous agents! One wrong move could release them into the whole building! I can't let you go in there! Do you have a death wish?"

"I'm not asking you to come along with us, Agent Rothwell." Gibbs said curtly as he marched quickly down the steps, his team walking quickly behind the pair. He didn't tell the CIA agent what he was really thinking; that any CIA presence with him and his team would be a major pain in the ass and would slow his ability to get anything done down here even more. "This is my mission and I have my priorities; one of them is to find and extract René Giguère and bring him along with me, and that's exactly what I'm intending to do."

"Agent Gibbs, think about this logically. No one has come out of the bioterrorism wing since the lockdown was issued. There's no reason to think that Professor Giguère could be alive down there. And even if he is still breathing, there's a good chance you'll be exposed to the contaminants yourselves; ten to one you wouldn't make it halfway back here."

"This outbreak is really something that's got you on the edge of your toes, isn't it?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

Rothwell merely stared back. "I'm not going to disclose any details of our projects here, Agent Gibbs…"

"Big surprise there."

Rothwell ignored Gibbs' sarcastic comment and merely went on in his official tone. "I'm not going to discuss what we do here with you, but take my word for it that it's far more than just a simple setback. This is a very serious crisis we're in the middle of Agent Gibbs, and while I would love nothing more than to highlight the willingness of the CIA to cooperate with our fellow agencies, what you're asking to do is out of the question."

"I'm not asking." Gibbs said firmly without turning around. "I'm telling you what we came here to do, and I damn well sure am going to do it. Frankly Rothwell, I couldn't give a damn less what you're doing here or why you're doing it. If you say it's in the name of national security and to protect this country then fine, but what I'm doing is protecting this country as well- by the proper means available to me."

The group reached the bottom of the staircase. A heavily armed guard stood in front of a security door and held up a hand when they approached. "I'm afraid this area is under quarantine, sir." He addressed Gibbs. "No one gets in or out until the situation has been resolved."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Rothwell faced Gibbs. "This whole effort is completely pointless, Agent Gibbs; pointless for you risking your lives for this."

"Nothing I do I consider 'pointless', Agent Rothwell." Gibbs replied tersely, barely keeping his voice calm. "If I choose to take a specific action, it's because it's absolutely necessary that I do so. If that means venturing into a quarantine zone to find someone, then that's what I'll do."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm and your willingness to risk your life Gibbs, but this is truly not…"

"Did you or did you not say that Director Delcourt of CSIS had contacted you and told you that we would be coming to pick up an individual under contract of the CIA?" Gibbs asked pointedly. "If so, I'd very much like to know why you acted with such surprise when we told you who we were here for and why you didn't inform us of the situation earlier."

"The director neglected to mention the specifics of the reason of your visit." Rothwell replied coolly. "Only that it was to do with the cooperation between our agencies against a common threat and that you were coming to collect a certain specialist under our employment. I didn't realize exactly what he was talking about as he declined to give many details, but now that I know who he was referring to, things have changed."

"Not for me." Gibbs got right up in the CIA agent's face. "My job involves the investigation of matters in the United States Navy. Right now there is a situation involving the Navy that I need certain help with, and the person who can offer some of that help is right behind that door you're standing in front of. Personally Rothwell, I don't give a damn about whatever secrets you're hiding in this building; what I _do_ care about is solving the problems that I'm bogged down with right now. Now you can either be part of the solution to those problems and allow us access or you can continue to delay us and piss me off. Believe me when I say you don't want to do the latter."

"If you go in there," Rothwell said, "you'll be treated no differently than anyone else that was in the bioterrorism wing when the lockdown was initiated. If there's even the slightest hint that any of your team has been contaminated, you stay in there."

Tony uttered a slightly muffled sound and looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but Gibbs merely said, "Fair enough. But if I have it my way, there won't be any need to even consider that."

"For your sake, Agent Gibbs, I hope you're right." Rothwell turned and addressed the security guard. "Let them in."

The guard hesitated for a brief moment, then produced a card key from one of his vest pockets and slid it across the square black lock; there was a click and the light on the lock switched from red to green, indicating entry was now possible. The guard stepped aside and gave a nod towards Gibbs.

Rothwell gave the senior NCIS agent one last look before stepping aside and allowing the group to pass. The expression on his face was not a pleased one, that was for damn sure, but Gibbs merely met it with a look of his own before taking hold of the handle and pushing open the door, stepping through.

Gibbs halted just on the inside, and as the rest of his team phased in behind him he took a look around at the surroundings. The area was very much like the lower level of NCIS- when it was still standing; wide hallways made of tile going off in different directions, one to the left and one to the right. The red light blinking constantly throughout the area reminded him of the occasional times they'd had to lock down the Navy Yard. Including that last time when it had been attacked by that helicopter…

He gave his head a curt shake to rid himself of that memory- it reminded him too much of the situation they were currently in- and instead turned back towards the door as his team gathered around him.

"We'll try to be as quick as we can." He said, addressing Rothwell in a polite but not overly courteous tone.

The CIA agent gave Gibbs a cool look and replied, "I hope you do too, Agent Gibbs. I'd hate to think that your journey out here as part of a plan to help save lives would end up costing you your own."

And he slowly pushed the door closed; the light on the lock switched back to red, signalling the securitization of the area once more.

Tony turned to Gibbs. "So boss, what now? I mean, do we just walk around asking random people about where we can find this guy Giguère? May not be the best thing to do with all this lockdown-contamination stuff going on."

Gibbs' eyes passed between hallways. There was no indication as to which one would bring them to the French scientist. "I have my own theory about that DiNozzo, but now is not the time to be thinking about that. We need to find Giguère as quickly as possible. Is there no indication as to where he might be _exactly_ down here?"

"No." The Aussie voice of Nigel popped up. "The CIA loves keeping their secrets under the tightest possible wraps. Even if we are members of fellow intelligence agencies, they're not going to make our jobs any easier by giving out free information. If we want to find Giguère, we're going to have to find him ourselves."

"McGee?"

The MIT graduate shook his head. "Sorry boss; there wasn't enough time to get the schematics to the lower level. The best I can tell is that this level isn't over large and there are only two main paths- these ones here."

"Alright." Gibbs turned to the rest of them. "Since there are only two main paths, it would make sense to tackle them at the same time. McGee- you, Brewer and I will take the left path. DiNozzo- you, Ziva and Warner will take the path on the right. Search as quickly but thoroughly as you can. If you find Giguère, give us a call and we'll come to you. Understand?"

There was a chorus of affirmative responses.

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?"

Tony immediately jumped into action. "Right boss! Of course! Both of you on me! Watch my six! We're going in hot!"

_Thwack!_

"Get moving, DiNozzo!"

"Moving on right now, boss!"

The two NCIS agents and ASIS agent were quickly on their way down their designated path, weapons drawn out of caution. Gibbs pulled out his own, then paused and raised an eyebrow towards McGee and Stephanie; the two of them quickly followed his example, and then followed the senior agent's example as he went walking down the hallway which soon made a sharp left turn.

The hallway looked exactly like it had by the entrance; wide, blinking red lights, and white tile floor and walls all around. This corridor was especially long, but the constant blinking of the red lockdown alert made it very difficult to see the end of it. There were numerous doors on both sides of it and the trio made sure to check each and every one of them. Surprisingly, none of these doors were locked, but they also contained nothing useful; usually just empty offices or small labs containing strange looking lab equipment that would probably make a whole lot more sense to Abby. Gibbs sure as hell had no idea what they were for and right now he didn't care; they still hadn't found their French scientist and they were running out of places to search.

Before long, they had come to the end of the corridor and found that what the blinking lights had concealed was a steel security door similar to the one at the entrance to this wing. It had the same kind of lock on it, but this one had a green light signalling that the door was unlocked. Gibbs didn't like this too much- it was slightly too easy. In his experience, the easier something was, the more likely it was to kill you.

"This is the last door in this hallway." Stephanie stage whispered. "If he isn't here, then we'll have to go back and check with the rest of the team."

"Ya think, Brewer?" Gibbs responded. "Let's just make sure that this room is clear and secure before moving on. Get ready."

Stephanie and McGee got on either side of the door, weapons ready. Gibbs slowly and cautiously reached for the door handle and pushed it slowly open. He stepped through into the room, the other two on his heels.

The second he stepped through, the team leader was caught off guard; not by any attack or alarm or anything of that kind, but by something else- talking. Rapid, non-stop chatter from right in front of him. As he took a look around at his surroundings, he noticed he was in another lab. This one was slightly bigger than the other ones they had come across but not by much. He noticed that strangely, there was no red alert light in this room, giving the lab a dark, somewhat dingy appearance. A few tables with various pieces of equipment lying on them were scattered throughout the room. In the centre of the lab, standing just slightly hunched over while typing rapidly on a computer, was a tall, middle-aged man with short dark hair and a dark stubble beard. He wore a dark jacket and dark pants that appeared to be made out of some type of sturdy material. Gibbs' first thought was that there was no chance in hell that this guy was their scientist, but then remembered the uniqueness of Abby's own style of dress; in his world, he decided, no one looked or acted the way people believed them to.

The man was also murmuring to himself loud enough for the group to hear; not incoherently, but on the contrary very clearly. The rapid manner in which he spoke made Gibbs stretch his ears to catch the words. "_Ah! non. Ça ne se passera pas comme ça!_ What to do? What to do? Initiate connection upstairs? No- line too unstable. Not an option. Attempt reconfiguration of fan system is best option. Clear the level- allow the agents to be removed. The analysis is not yet complete. Should use available medical supplies until synthesis can proceed. The situation must be adapted to; cannot afford to fail. Failure, it is never an option."

Gibbs turned a questioning look towards McGee, who merely returned it, and then to Stephanie, who gave a single nod of her head. Lowering his weapon but not putting it away, he cautiously approached the man, who, sensing the agent's presence turned to look at him.

Gibbs asked, "Professor Rene Giguère?"

The man stood upright and took two quick steps towards Gibbs, taking a small device from his pocket; the ex-marine tensed up for a moment, but the man merely pressed on a button and passed it over Gibbs' torso. Taking a look at it, his mouth formed a thin line in concentration. "Hmm." He said, looking up. "I do not recognize from this area. You are too well-armed to be science personnel, you have no CIA identification cards and yet you are in a quarantined zone."

He turned away and walked back to his computer still speaking out loud, his voice getting quicker and quicker. "Perhaps you are here for something else? Data? Information regarding CIA activities? Unlikely- the lab clearly holds no useful data on external operations."

He gestured with his hand. "The lockdown, perhaps? An investigation of the possible use of biohazard material for personal purposes?" He began typing on his computer again rapidly. "_Non, non, non_. Impossible solution. Not logical. Too many guns and not enough equipment for such an operation. Not soldiers- not enough weapons and lack of armour. Something else. Only one remaining standing conclusion."

He straightened up and looked Gibbs directly in the eye. "You are with another intelligence agency."

Gibbs, a little taken back by the nature of the man, quickly strove to recover himself. "Not entirely." He said. "I'm Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service." _Or maybe I should say the 'recently destroyed Naval Criminal Investigative Service'_. He gestured behind him. "This is Special Agent Timothy McGee, also with NCIS, and Officer Stephanie Brewer of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service We're here at the behest of CSIS; we're on a very important mission and we need your help. You _are_ Rene Giguère, aren't you?"

"Of course." The man said definitively, gesturing with his hand. "But what is this mission you are talking about? _Non_, it is impossible. It is necessary to deal with crisis here first and to secure this level. Besides, I thought NCIS only dealt specifically the United States Navy." He shrugged. "Why is it that you request the help of a French scientist?"

"NCIS can't really investigate anything at the moment." Gibbs explained. "It's a long story and I'll fill you in on the details later, but right now we need your help. You ever hear of a militant group called the Blood Devils? They're attacking and abducting entire naval bases across the world, including here in the US."

The next sentence was more of a firm affirmation to himself than it was to the Frenchman. "We're going to find out why they're doing this and stop them."

"Blood Devils?" Giguère scratched the underside of his chin. "_Ah!_ Yes, of course. It is very interesting what you say there. France herself has suffered such losses in her navy, so I have heard. The Blood Devils are one of few groups with technology capable of striking with such lethal and efficient force. Our goals may be similar, yours and mine."

"Even if that involves combat?" Gibbs questioned, looking directly into the man's eyes. "You'll excuse my scepticism if I'm told that a scientist can be an ally in the field."

Giguère smiled and held up a hand. "I was not always a scientist; some work was done with the _Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure._ I can handle myself very well. It is an advantage of being French; opponents expect US Marines or British SAS involved in high risk situations. As a result, they never see me coming."

Gibbs nodded; he could tell the man was telling the truth. Giguère began to walk to the other side of the room. "But, before that is possible, one must repair the situation in this section. We have to figure out what this lockdown was triggered by and stop it. You have taken a great risk but coming into this wing."

"I'm not sure I agree." Gibbs said slowly. "From the way I was told, this section was contaminated with an extremely severe biohazard warning and there was a high level of contagion. But I haven't felt anything unusual- not the slightest bit of sickness." He turned to Stephanie and McGee. "Have you two?"

"Well," McGee said, "actually no, boss."

"Nor have I, Agent Gibbs." Stephanie replied.

"What is it that you say, Agent Gibbs?" Giguère asked curiously.

"Only that there's a hell of a lot more going on here than meets the eye." Gibbs murmured. His gut was turning around and around. "Something's not right here; I can feel it. Why would they insist so much that this area was under quarantine when no one here is feeling even the slightest bit sick?"

He shook his head. 'Well, we're going to find out. McGee, Brewer- get your weapons ready. We're going to find the others and then we're going to get some answers. And after I get the answers I want, we're riding out of here."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Agent Gibbs."

The three whipped around towards the familiar sound of the voice by the doorway. Just inside the frame was a group of at least half a dozen heavily armed soldiers all carrying automatic weapons and kitted out in full combat gear except for helmets. In front of them, being held closely at gunpoint, were Tony, Ziva and Nigel; the two men wore grim-faced, self-disappointed looks, while Ziva glared around as though she was furious at the situation she found herself in.

Agent Rothwell stepped out in front of the group and regarded the ex-marine with a cool expression and an equally cool tone.

"Drop your weapons- all of you. _Or your teammates will be dead before they hit the ground…_"

**A/N: Well, here it is! Those of you who want action are getting it- here and in the next chapter. And there'll be PLENTY of more action throughout the story. Just give me some detailed reviews (plot, new characters etc) and I might update sooner!**

**FYI: '**_**Ça ne se passera pas comme ça!'**_**translates roughly as 'That's not going to happen!'**

**FYI: Think of René Giguère as being played by Jean Reno- at least the way he looked in 'Ronin'.**


	11. Skills of the Scientist

Gibbs' first instinct was to instinctively raise his weapon and order the CIA agents to let the hostages go and drop their weapons. It was something he had done countless times in NCIS and it was only his solid Marine training that kept him from acting rashly; not only were he, McGee and Stephanie outnumbered and outgunned, but it was two members of his regular team that were being held at gunpoint, along with another intelligence agent he was working with. Rash thoughts and brandished guns were not going to solve this issue; he had to keep a cool diplomatic head.

"So your CIA marching orders truly are taking priority for you after all, Rothwell." Gibbs replied coolly.

"My marching orders, as you like to call them Gibbs," Rothwell responded just as coolly, "are what they always have been; protect the national security of the United States of America through any means necessary. And that is exactly what I'm doing right here and now."

"By holding members of my team at gunpoint?"

"Whatever gets the job done." Rothwell took another step towards them. "The CIA is charged with protecting this country; in order to do that I have to have the best resources available to me. Or in this case the best experts available to me. We cannot afford to lose any asset that may help us in the long run."

"So that's it?" This remark came from Stephanie. "Even after all the cooperation between CSIS and the CIA, you double-cross us and refuse to help out for the common good?"

"You have your interests to fulfill, Officer Brewer and I have mine. Unfortunately for you, the government of the United States views my priorities as higher than yours right now."

"Believe me," Stephanie said tersely, "you have no idea what the priorities at stake are."

Gibbs passed his eye over Tony, Ziva and Nigel, as though looking to see who was responsible for this little incident. As if he really needed to ask.

As if on cue, Tony immediately spoke up. "It's my fault boss. I figured we should look through the files stored on a computer in one of the rooms we found. I just didn't think they would keep their security in their own facility at the level where they would come bursting in on you if you so much as touched a wrong key."

"No Gibbs." Ziva responded. "It is my fault; I should have knocked out Tony before he had a chance to touch any of those keys." She shot a glance over towards the senior field agent. "Unfortunately, I may have had… _second thoughts_ about hurting him. You can bet on your life I will not ever hesitate again."

Tony stuck his tongue out at her. Nigel made a sort of snorting sound, shook his head and muttered, "Crikey. With the way you guys rip into each other, I'm amazed NCIS didn't self-destruct years ago."

"Believe me," Ziva responded, "this blockhead has come very close in the past years to doing exactly that."

"Take that back, Ziva!" Tony demanded under his breath.

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"If you two don't shut up right this second," the guard holding Tony growled, "I'm going to make sure you wish you _had_ died back at NCIS!"

The pair fell silent, but continued to shoot each other dirty looks.

"How amusing." Rothwell said bemused. "Your team seems to almost do the job of trying to kill themselves before your enemies do. However, that is off topic. I believe I asked all of you to drop your weapons. I'd advise you to do so immediately." The agent looked directly at the group. "Otherwise, things may not go so well for your teammates."

"Hey," Tony replied, attempting to grin despite the fact that an assault rifle was being pressed painfully into his back. "Are you CIA types ever going learn anything from Hollywood? The last thing you ever do is screw with a tough-ass John McClane character like an ex-marine by taking his friends hostage. If anyone's going to be dead before he hits the ground, it's going to be you."

This remark earned him a crack on the back of the head with a rifle butt from the guard who was holding him; Tony stumbled and would have fallen had the guard not grabbed him and hauled him back up into the human shield position. Ziva's face grew even angrier and she made a movement to try to go towards the ex-cop, but her own personal guard tightened his hold on her. Nigel looked over at Tony with an expression that reflected both respect and reproach.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Stephanie tighten her grip on her weapon. A brief flash of movement on his other side told him McGee had done the same. Gibbs made a brief motion with his eyes in Stephanie's direction, signalling to her as best he could not to try anything rash. The ex-RCMP officer clearly understood his instructions; her mouth formed a grim line as she turned her attention back to the CIA agents, but she slowly bent down and put her weapon on the ground. Gibbs and McGee followed suite.

"Kick them over here- now."

The three did so before straightening back up. Gibbs felt an uneasy feeling without a weapon in his hand; even though he had both his back-up strapped to his ankle as well as a knife and knew McGee and Stephanie did as well, they wouldn't do much good if he couldn't get to them before his three captive team members were executed. He would have to remain collective and try to look for an opening he could seize.

"It seems I have misjudged you, Agent Rothwell." Giguère's voice from behind Gibbs reminded the team leader of the scientist's presence in the room. "I believed you were honestly interested in aiding your country and keeping it secure. But it would appear that you care about nothing but your own personal interest and keeping up a good appearance for your superiors."

"On the contrary Professor, I do care about keeping this country safe." Rothwell replied coolly. "I care about keeping one step ahead of the terrorists who try to strike us where we're most vulnerable. I'm dedicating the best resources and personnel to keeping Americans secure in the knowledge that there is no enemy we can't defeat and that's why I can't allow anyone to interfere with that."

"If you really cared about keeping America safe," McGee said, somewhat to the surprise of everyone in the room, "you'd realize that what we're doing is going after the real threat- to America and the rest of the world."

"Don't try to play the greater good card, Agent McGee. I already know exactly what the threat to this country is- and how to stop it. America is in the middle of the Global War on Terror; we need the best resources in order to win that war and that's exactly what you are offering us, Professor."

"I came to you with the understanding that the work I would be conducting would be used into order to understand the threats this world faces and work to counter them." Giguère responded. "But it seems you are only interested in threats you can see right in front of your eyes. That does not fit into what I would describe as good intelligence work."

"This is exactly why we need you to remain here with us while we figure out how to counter all these threats." Rothwell swept his hand towards the three agents in front of the scientist. "Your expertise and your brilliance are what are going to make sure that the United States is always one step ahead in the field of counter-terrorism. _They_ seem to have gotten it into their heads that their petty difficulties require your skills and needed to take you along with them; I had to make sure they didn't succeed with that."

"So you released a hazardous contaminant into this entire wing just to stop us from taking him along?" Tony said incredulously.

"No DiNozzo." Gibbs looked Rothwell in the eye. "As soon as he heard that we were on the way, he _pretended_ that this area had been contaminated and set off a false lockdown alarm to keep people out."

"What is that you say?" Giguère said sharply. "_Attendez_. Wait a moment." He looked off into the distance with a thoughtful look on his face. "Of course! Alleged hazardous material would be supposedly almost instantly lethal, and yet there have been no casualties on this level. The security footage for the bioterrorism wing shows no other science personnel when we should have been at full capacity. Best conclusion- they have already been evacuated in order to prevent them from discovering there is no real threat. That is the reason they have been locked out."

"And to keep you in and preoccupied with the threat of the biohazard so you wouldn't race off with any outsiders who came looking for you." Gibbs added. "Isn't that right Rothwell?"

"I did warn you that you would be putting your lives at risk by coming down here." The CIA agent replied. "Unfortunately, you were too thick-skulled and determined to see your mission through that I couldn't dissuade you from interfering. I'm afraid now that the truth is out, we must take measures to retain our resources and ensure the secrecy of our work continues."

"Oh, come on." Tony piped up. "I mean, I know you CIA guys get a bad rap and all, but even you wouldn't execute your allies in cold-blood, would you? I mean, that's just not nice!"

"Shut up." His guard growled again, tightening his grip on the ex-cop.

"CSIS is fully aware of our actions, Agent Rothwell." Stephanie said coolly. "That includes the director; he will not let a mere cover-up like you're used to go unanswered."

"And, as usual, Washington will call Ottawa, tell them that it would be in their interests to allow such issues to be let go, and they will comply." Rothwell said indifferently. "I'm afraid that when it comes right down to it Officer Brewer, the CIA has far more influence and far greater power than CSIS does."

"But do you have more power than CSIS, ASIS and NCIS combined?" Gibbs said, trying frantically to think up some plan of action- preferably one that didn't end with getting them all killed.

"NCIS is finished, Agent Gibbs. And so are your attempts to postpone the inevitable." The guards all clicked the hammers of their weapons; Tony, Ziva and Nigel all winced at the added pressure against their backs; McGee looked back and forth between Gibbs and the CIA agents as though searching for the boss' response to all this; Stephanie narrowed her eyes in concentration; Gibbs' face remained impassive, even though his mind was racing a thousand miles an hour, trying to come up with something.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Agent Gibbs." Rothwell said. "I wish there was another way, but there isn't. It's especially disappointing to you, isn't it? To see your team taken down this way without any kind of response."

Gibbs gritted his teeth; if he was going down, he was going to go down defiantly. But he'd be damned if he'd let his team go down as if they were disappointments. They weren't- not _his _team. Not the best damn team he'd ever seen. He braced himself, prepared to grab the back-up from his ankle and try to kill as many of the bastards as possible before they overwhelmed him.

A voice from behind him caught him off guard and made him hesitate- René Giguère's voice. "_No._"

He turned around to look at the Frenchman, whose face was stone cold staring daggers at the CIA agents. "_Not without a response_…"

Gibbs wasn't sure exactly how to describe what happened next other than the fact that it was a blur. He saw Giguère's right hand come up and saw something- something small and dark- fly out of it. He watched as it flew through the air, over his head towards the group; it seemed to hesitate, hang in midair for just a split second before slowing coming down to just above the guards' heads. There was mid-sized bang and the object burst apart in the air; a cloud of a slightly translucent gas appeared in its place, spreading over the guards' faces before suddenly vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

The room was suddenly filled with cries; screams of agony and pain all at the same time. The guards immediately let go off their weapons and began clawing at their faces; Tony, Ziva and Nigel immediately took advantage to wrench themselves from their captors grasp and join the rest of the team across the room. Every single CIA member, except Rothwell- who was standing transfixed at the situation- was roaring in absolute agony as they covered their faces, and especially their eyes. Gibbs stared in astonishment; whatever that gas had been was causing them some very serious discomfort.

Then, almost instinctively, Gibbs looked back towards Giguère; the scientist was quickly raising his right hand, in which was firmly clamped a silver stainless steel handgun. Casually, without much emotion on his face, he aimed at the group across the room and pulled the trigger. A spray of red mist exploded from the head of the left most guard, dropping him instantly. In rapid succession he moved his weapon to the right, firing as he went and gunning down the rest of the CIA personnel, except for Rothwell.

The whole action had taken about seven seconds.

Rothwell stood rooted to the spot, gaping at the carnage in front of him. He spun around to see Giguère aiming his weapon directly at him.

"No!" He raised his hand in protest. "No, no, wait!"

Giguère pulled the trigger; Rothwell's head snapped back from the impact of the bullet dead centre in his forehead. He crumpled back, landing on the dead bodies of his recently killed guards.

Everyone in the room turned around to look at René Giguère; the Frenchman slid his weapon back into the holster under his jacket and dusted off his hands. "Now then," he said, completely calmly and casually as if nothing unusual had happened at all, "what was this you were saying about a mission for which you wished to recruit me?"

Tony and McGee both stared gaping at the man while Nigel, Stephanie and Ziva all had varying degrees of surprise and amazement on their faces. Tony managed to croak out, "What… how… what the hell did you do to them?"

Giguère looked somewhat confused. "I killed them, _bien sûr._ I thought that much would have been obvious."

"I know _that_! I mean before that! What was that thing you threw at them that had them screaming in agony?"

"Ah. That was a little design of my own; a small grenade capable of being virtually undetected. A small solution of toxic gas that renders permanent blindness on anyone affected by it. Probably best they were killed instantly; effects are very painful, in case you did not notice."

"Believe me, I noticed." Gibbs replied. "Did you just happen to have that in your possession when we arrived down here?"

"I had the suspicion that something would happen that would warrant caution; the lockdown in this wing perpetuated my suspicions and I decided to open the eye to anything that may happen. It is a well-used trademark in the DGSE that has worked for me many times before. As you can see, those suspicions were well warranted." He gazed over to the heap of bodies on the floor. "Probably a little too warranted according to the late Agent Rothwell and his security personnel."

Gibbs sighed. "Alright, I get it; you have plenty of field experience and you can handle yourself. We've solved the problem of all issues to be dealt with down here; are you ready to help stop the Blood Devils?"

Giguère nodded. "Yes. The Blood Devils are clearly where attention needs to be focused right now; clearly a large threat to all countries in the world. _Allons-y_. Let us go."

"Uh, not to rain on the parade or anything," Tony interjected slightly uncomfortably, "but how are we gonna explain all this?" He pointed at the array of dead CIA bodies.

Giguère waved a dismissive hand. "It is of no concern. DGSE is very capable at handling these kinds of situations. I still have many contacts there who can deal with it. I think it is probable that Agent Rothwell was acting alone; nature of his demeanour suggested this was an isolated incident of a man acting out of his own selfish reasons. There is no need to shoot our way out of this building, nor to destroy all friendly relations with the CIA."

"Maybe, but I am not taking any chances." Ziva murmured as she retrieved her weapon from the body of one of the guards. Tony and Nigel did the same, while Gibbs, McGee and Stephanie picked their guns up from the floor.

"Quite unnecessary, but I applaud your caution." Giguère replied. "One must never allow oneself to be taken by surprise; it is then when the worst damage can be done. However, I doubt we need to have fear of anything upstairs and the situation requires that we get to the real task at hand quickly. Shall we go?"

No one offered up any objections and with Giguère leading the group they all made their way to the door to return back upstairs. Tony murmured to Ziva, "Man, if these are the kind of people we're going to be picking up I suddenly feel a lot more optimistic. Did you see what that guy did? Man, he's like a scientist and assassin rolled into one!"

"He is very efficient." Ziva acknowledged. "If he is indeed on our side, I think we will have a much better chance of success."

"You have reason to doubt his sincerity?"

"I keep an eye on everyone who has skills similar to mine, Tony. What he accomplished can be very useful in the right hands but very dangerous in the wrong hands. You saw how cold and calm he was after killing those guards."

"Remind you of your old self, Zee? Is that a bit of jealous assassin rivalry I sense?" Tony teased

Ziva looked at him with a look that signalled she was not overly pleased at being reminded of her old days with Mossad, and Tony silently cursed himself for being so thoughtless. "Sorry Ziva, that was a stupid thing to say. I should not have mentioned that."

Ziva turned back forward, but then said, "No Tony, you are right. There is still a part of me that views anyone who can do what I do with suspicion and distrust. It is going to take some time to get over that. But perhaps the fact that I feel this is a good sign."

Tony looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that perhaps the best possible team we can have for this situation should have members like Giguère- those who are willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. If this was a pure NCIS assignment, I am not sure we would be able to accomplish it. Or if we could, it would not be in the proper time or as efficiently as it must. We need to have unique people on this team as well as the standard personnel."

"We have you." Tony pointed out. "A former Mossad assassin is hardly what I'd call standard."

"Yes, but I am merely one woman. In order to get through this, we are going to need quite a few more members with unique abilities. The success of our job relies upon that. Besides…"

"Besides what, Ziva?" Tony prompted when she trailed off.

Ziva frowned. "I cannot help but… what is your American expression? Have a rut feeling?"

"_Gut_, Ziva; have a gut feeling."

"Yes. I cannot help but have a gut feeling that this mission has a sort of…_ finality_ in it for all of us…"

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please let me know what you think so far! Hit the review button!**

**FYI: René Giguère's name (in case anyone does not know French) is pronounced 'renn-Nay Zhee-gare'**.


	12. Gibbs' Concerns

_**CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 20:13 EST**_

Gibbs leaned up against a desk in the Communications Room, waiting for their expected quarry to arrive, and he wasn't disappointed as only two minutes after he got there the doors slid open, revealing both Nigel and René Giguère who were walking side by side. Nigel was giving Giguère a tour of the facility, having already done the same to the Thunderbird (which Abby had affectionately dubbed the _NCIS_ in memory of the Navy Yard and all those people killed there). Gibbs still wasn't keen on Abby co-piloting the ship with such little experience under her belt but had been assured by McCrae that the Goth scientist was a natural and fast learner and possessed flying skills that surprised both him and herself. Gibbs supposed he would just have to trust McCrae on this, though personally he wasn't entirely sure how Abby would be able to function at all without a single Caf-Pow. It was a damn good thing, he thought, that at least CSIS had a large supply of coffee on demand; without that, there wouldn't be a chance in _hell_ that this mission would succeed!

He momentarily shifted his gaze over to where Stephanie Brewer was standing just a few yards away, her arrival having preceded his own. Her arms were crossed and she was regarding the latest addition to their squad with a serious, analytical expression on her face. Typical all-business type, Gibbs thought. Normally he appreciated that, but Brewer was taking that to a slightly different level- as in acting like an all-knowing leader around him. There was no denying her own personal skills but it was almost as if she was trying to prove to him that she could be a better leader than he could. And it was not just with him she took that attitude- practically everyone else felt that side of her too. DiNozzo perhaps more than everyone else, though Gibbs couldn't say he was the slightest bit surprised at that; Ziva seemed a little more matched and at ease with her, probably because of their respective positions and attitudes; and Gibbs couldn't help thinking that Abby was slightly jealous of the Canadian's sharp wit towards McGee. The junior field agent seemed to both be enthralled with and intimidated by the CSIS officer, which made Gibbs almost smirk; even after so many years under his watch and with much experience in the field, McGee still reflected that boyish innocence of his. If his gut was anything to go by, he wouldn't be surprised if the ex-RCMP cop had picked up on it as well.

Presently, he tuned back into the situation in front of him as Nigel began speaking. "Welcome to CSIS' designated base in DC, Professor." The Australian was saying. "We're honoured to have you with us."

"Yes." Giguère said, looking around at the various features of the room. "It is most exciting. CSIS expresses a desire to bring non-Canadians into the fold of a critical mission. Very unexpected. The Director Delcourt is running low on availability perhaps? His nationalism not sufficient to do the required job?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the mention of the director's name. "You're very well informed." He remarked. "How did you know about that?"

"The French government is very well connected, especially in terms of its intelligence gathering." The scientist explained. "Espionage is a critical aspect of that, even towards our traditional and strongest allies." (Gibbs glanced over towards Stephanie but her face was completely unreadable). "I myself possessed top level security clearance and access to that type of information until I left DGSE. And yet I still hear bits of information occasionally. The director was not in the position he was in while I was still in intelligence and I know only of his name. I have no personal knowledge of the man behind that other than his view on Canadian independence." He paused for breath. "It is slightly troubling, that; opposition towards French influence in Canada is slightly problematic."

"I can't say I'm surprised that he would take that position," Gibbs responded. "But don't kid yourself over his nationalistic attitude, Giguère. I've dealt with him once or twice before; Canadian strength and independence from anyone else are still his number one priority. But this situation is too big for him to handle all by himself."

Stephanie took up the explanation. "The Blood Devils are abducting naval bases from numerous countries across the world."

"Hmm." Giguère scratched his chin. "These are not mere simple abductions. You would neither need me nor recruit me if this situation was a simple, straightforward one."

"Entire naval bases disappear without a trace." Nigel continued very seriously. "Not a single alert or call for assistance is sent out. There are absolutely no signs of any kind of attack. There's virtually no evidence that anything unusual happened at _all_- except for the fact that every sailor, marine and officer is gone."

"Very interesting." Giguère murmured, pacing back and forth. "That is truly remarkable. Obviously this is not a simple process. How does one get everyone on the base under their control without the slightest signs of attack or retaliation? _Quelle mystère!_ That is not easy. Contamination of the water supply perhaps? _Non_, the effects would not be simultaneous and would indicate prior access to base. Unlikely. An airborne virus then? No- would act too slow and put assailants themselves at high risk of contracting disease. Perhaps some type of electrical impulse similar to that of an electro-magnetic pulse; one that targets the nerves in one's body…"

"Professor." Gibbs held up a hand to halt the Frenchman's thought process, which had been slowly getting faster and faster. "It's alright; you don't have to waste your time guessing. We already have a lead on what the Blood Devils are using."

"A lead?"

Stephanie explained. "We analyzed some security footage found at one of the bases that was attacked; a thermal scan shows some type of gas in the air at the time the base was ambushed. We believe the Blood Devils are spreading some type of paralyzing nerve toxin over the base to neutralize all the personnel before they go in to collect them."

"Nerve toxin?" A light came into Giguère's eye. "Yes, that would make sense. To paralyze all the navy personnel in the base beforehand so as not to risk retaliation. And it would be easy to use protection against it so as not to get caught in their own attack."

"The trouble is we don't what type of toxin they're using." Stephanie went on. "But we're taking steps to find out what it is. We collected some soil and water samples from some of the bases hit here in the US; the gas appears to have a limited lifespan in the open air but we're hoping it's longer lasting in other compounds. We'd like you to analyze them and see if you can find a suitable guard against it; when we run into the Blood Devils, it would be wise to have a feasible defence against them."

"It's not going to be easy." Nigel reaffirmed. "But it's necessary. The Blood Devils have taken thousands of naval personnel from all across the world. We'll do whatever we have to do to find and stop them permanently."

"Yes!" Giguère said firmly. "Of course. It is very urgent and important. We cannot afford to be captured like the naval personnel. It is necessary therefore to identify and neutralize their methods of attack. The samples must be analyzed. I will need a lab in which to do that."

Nigel motioned to the door. "There's a fully equipped lab in this facility. If you need anything, don't hesitate to place a requisition order. I'll show you where it is, Professor. Follow me."

Gibbs watched as the two men walked back out of the room and waited for the door to fully close before turning towards Stephanie. "Well, what do you think?"

She returned his look. "I think he's going to be a very effective and productive member of the team. Obviously we need his skills to counteract the Blood Devils' gas attacks. His skills in the field have yet to be seen by me personally but I get the feeling he will not disappoint in that area as well."

"Let's just hope he doesn't forget who's in command of this operation." Gibbs remarked in a somewhat low tone.

"You don't trust him."

"I don't know him. It takes time to earn my trust. And I'm not much for people who don't show any emotion while killing; he blinded and then gunned down those CIA agents without so much as a blink, then went about talking as if nothing had happened. He's cold; I don't like having to deal with cold people on my team."

"He's a necessary asset." Stephanie argued. "And his skills are going to be needed on this mission; if you were hoping this could be run as an NCIS-type of assignment Agent Gibbs, you're very much mistaken."

"That much is obvious." Gibbs replied coolly. "_You're_ here, aren't you?"

Stephanie fixed him with an equally cool look then made for the door. "I'll be in my personal station if you need me."

As Gibbs watched her leave, it occurred to him that this was only going to be the beginning of a rather tense relationship between all of the team members. He really shouldn't be surprised given the differences between all of them; hell it was bad enough with his regular NCIS team and they'd been working together for years! The fact that they still had quite a few individuals to pick up meant this was going to be a long mission. He internally grimaced at the realization that he would probably be interfering in a number of disputes before long.

He exited the door, intending to head towards the lab to talk to Giguère and get a sense of what the man's mindset was. As he walked along the corridor, he wondered how the rest of the team was adapting to their new surroundings and associates.

**A/N: Reviews make me update faster and are VERY much appreciated! Please hit the review button! Tell me what you think of the plot, new characters so far, etc. **

**Specifically, what do you think of Abby as a co-pilot? I know it seems strange and OOC, but I could picture her as one- especially in this story!**

**Also, any ideas as to what kind of disputes will pop up amongst the team? There'll be several, but are you thinking so far? **

**The next chapter will deal with some of the interactions amongst new/old team members. There'll also be a flashback scene on the attack on NCIS from Abby's perspective. Very interesting! If I get some reviews describing your opinions towards the above things, I might just upload faster!**


	13. Two Pilots Round A Table

"So let me get this straight!" Abby laughed as she leaned back in her chair in the small kitchen/common room in the designated CSIS base. "You were flying over the streets of Sarajevo on a recon mission gone bad, avoiding Serb sniper fire when all of a sudden you come under rocket attack from the streets, and yet all you could do was to give them the finger while dodging the attacks as best you could?"

"Damn right." McCrae grinned and shook his head. "The order from the 'high command' in Washington who had control over all NATO forces wouldn't allow us to act, offensively or defensively, until, and I quote, 'all possible alternate means had been exercised'. That was, to be very frank- pardon my French- bullshit. Here I am having RPGs try to blow me out of the air, watching those bastards pick off innocent civilians from the rooftops, and they're sitting on their asses in their big comfortable chairs in Washington telling me how to handle the situation. I doubt they even knew what the hell the city looked like, and they're telling me when and when not to shoot back? Bullshit! So I did the only thing I could to those bastards and told them visually what they could go do to themselves!"

Abby burst out laughing. This was by far the funniest story she had _ever_ heard! And it wasn't so much the story itself as it was the _way_ in which it was being told; McCrae was beginning to rival Ducky for the quality of stories and he hadn't even finished his first one!

"So when the order finally _did_ come stating that we could fire back to protect ourselves or civilians, command adds the stipulation that the USAF gets the first strike at the Serb military positions. And where are the bombers belonging to this lucky group that gets first dibs? Sitting on their asses on their ships finishing up breakfast! I'm right in the middle of the action and they're ordering me to keep putting on an air show for the bastards until the American _leaders_ arrive and take charge. So I said 'screw that'; the Serbs weren't going to wait for the cavalry to show up before they stopped killing every civilian in sight. I peppered the rooftops of those buildings with fire and then did the same thing to the streets where those sons of bitches were launching rockets from; they bolted like someone had lit a blowtorch under their asses!"

Abby collapsed in another fit of laughter. This was just too much!

"Yeah, that was my first reaction too. Course the upper command wasn't too happy at first; they threw a fit and wanted to court martial me for disobeying a direct order. But someone in the upper echelon said 'screw that'; they argued that I could have done nothing else because I was under direct fire and that the enemy was gunning down civilians in plain sight. Got a medal pinned on my chest, a promotion and called a hero. Didn't much matter to me; the formalities of those things never really peaked my interest. But it had its benefits; a few years later I was head of Joint Task Force 2, heading the best damn unit of soldiers in the entire country."

"And now you're here." Abby pointed out. "Sitting in a secret base in rural DC, the pilot of an advanced ship helping to stop a military group that's abducting naval bases all across the world."

"But for now sitting in the common room enjoying some freshly brewed coffee with an energetic and skilled young co-pilot."

"Oh, come on!" Abby protested. "I wasn't that good! I mean, I know I'm real good at _lots_ of things- okay, maybe a _hell_ of a lot of things- but all those usually involve sciences or technology. And you did most of the work. I'm not _that_ good a pilot!"

"Bullshit. I saw the way you operated that thing when you did. You handled it better than most pilots in training back in the CF. You keep this up and those Blood Devil bastards won't know what hit them!"

Abby blushed slightly. "Well to be fair, I had my own source of fuel." She held up her cup of Caf-Pow. "If I didn't, we probably would have crashed right after the first take off!"

McCrae shook his head. "Somehow I doubt that."

"How did you manage to get hold of a Caf-Pow machine anyway? I didn't think obtaining one would by high on the list of priorities for CSIS."

"It's not, but I'm betting it was high on the list of priorities for Gibbs." McCrae smiled. "It's his team and he knows what it needs to function. That explains the great Tim Hortons coffee machine they got here." He lifted up his own cup. "I can't say I'm going to complain to Delcourt about that particular decision."

"Me neither!" Abby grinned. "Good old Gibbs! The bossman knew just what we needed in the nick of time, just like he always does!"

"Got that right. And if we're going to succeed in this mission, we're going to need all the help we can get- even if it is in the form of a beverage."

Abby was silent for a moment. She seemed to be thinking- deep in contemplation. "Do you really think we'll succeed in this operation?"

McCrae looked at her with a somewhat questioning look. "You have doubts that we will?"

"Well…" Abby hesitated. "It's not like I'm going to go all doom and gloom here on you. I know what we have to do and I know what I can do to help, but…" She trailed off again, giving her head a slight shake. "I just don't know. I mean, I _know_ what we're up against; I saw a big part of it first hand back at the naval yard. But maybe that's exactly what's making me hesitate. I've never been in a situation like this before and the possibilities that could come from it are scaring me."

McCrae looked at her silently for a moment before asking gently, "What happened back at the naval yard?"

Abby stared off into space, unblinkingly, as though trying to piece together the exact sequence of events that had gone on the last time she had been at NCIS. It was there- McCrae could see it in her eyes. She could remember what had happened only too vividly and he was beginning to wonder whether or not he ought not to have asked her to do that as she did. But before he could tell her that it was unnecessary to explain everything, the Goth started speaking in a low monotone voice.

"Everything started off normally- just another day at the yard. Gibbs, Tony, Ziva and McGee had all gone off to Camp Barry- that last naval base that had mysteriously vanished without a trace- to look for clues that might tell them exactly what had happened. I was just putting on some of the samples from the previous base they searched to be processed, when I began hearing this… _whining_ noise…"

**NCIS**

_Abby frowned and strode definitively over towards her far table; her ears had picked up on a sound over the heavy tunes of the death metal song that was playing. It was one that certainly should not be happening at that moment- a faint but definitely audible whining noise. She couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, but it sounded as if it were in the room and she assumed that one of her own machines was responsible. Well, she certainly wouldn't tolerate __**that**__!_

"_Come on, Major Mass Spec." She gave the machine a firm whack. "Don't you go all hinky on me now! We've got a major case involving disappearing marines all over DC and you're __**not**__ going to whack out on me! Come on!"_

_The noise continued on, steadily increasing in intensity. Abby stared down at the machine in confusion. None of her babies had ever made any kind of noise like this and there was no indication that any of them were malfunctioning or breaking down. So what was all this about? She gave another frown as she listened to the sound and raised her head, her eyes searching the room._

_If it wasn't one of her machines, then it had to have been something else. Problem was there was nothing else in the room which could make a noise like that- unless of course a __**really**__ big mosquito had somehow managed to get inside and she would have spotted it by now. So no- that was not possible._

"_If it's not anything in the lab," she murmured to herself, "that would mean it's somewhere else. But this room is soundproofed against any internal noise. So if it's not from in here, that means it must be coming from out…"_

_The 'side' part of the word never made it past her lips, for at that moment a loud crackling sound suddenly replaced the whining one, as though a live severed electrical cable had been placed right outside her window. A split second later, the crackling noise was covered up by unimaginably loud explosion that ripped through the air. The entire lab shook as though it had been hit head on by an earthquake; machines and lab equipment went crashing to the floor, breaking and shattering everywhere. Abby was thrown off her feet, flew through the air and landed heavily underneath the window. Pain soared up through her body; she instinctively huddled in a protective position, trying desperately to shield herself from the falling debris and the obscenely loud noise that it was perpetuating. _

_She heard them from just outside the window- screams. Horrible, agonized screams. Screams of souls in hell. Cautiously, she dared stand up and peer out the window. Her eyes widened in shock as she caught sight of what it was that had caused it- a huge plane with a black, shiny exterior in the form of a fighter jet but as big as a 747 about thirty yards away, hovering in the air. She focused on the underside of the nose where a bright yellow light was beginning to charge up. _

_Screams drew her attention to the ground level; many people, most of them she recognized as belonging to NCIS, were running in all directions, trying frantically to get to cover and get away from this attacker. Many ran into the street, some taking cover behind parked cars while others tried to get into cars and drive away as fast as possible._

_Unfortunately, none of them were fast enough._

_The whining and crackling sound broke the air again as the plane made a quarter turn to the right; the bright yellow light grew more intense until with a final crackle it shot downwards towards the street in the form of a laser stream. The cars in the immediate path of the light instantly exploded, sending pieces of fiery metal and pavement everywhere. Abby's eyes widened in horror as the very human screams penetrated the din and rose up like the shrieks of the damned. She covered her mouth with her hand as she witnessed bodies, most of them alight and still alive, go flying everywhere. Within seconds the entire area was ablaze; people staggered out of the fire, flames leaping up off every inch of them, horrible agonizing screams of pain erupting from their throats, before they collapsed on the ground- hopefully dead and not merely paralyzed from pain._

_Abby dropped down to her knees, her hands clasped over her ears. She tensed up every muscle in her body, trying to will the noise and chaos to stop, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted her cell phone lying on the ground just by her foot. She snatched it up and quickly set it to speed dial for the first person on her list. _

"_Come on Gibbs, pick up! Pick up!" She rocked back and forth, praying to everything that was holy that the ex-marine would answer, and felt a small measure of relief when the phone was answered. However, before she could say anything, the senior agent's voice came bursting through the speaker, indicating that help was not likely to be coming._

"This is Agent Gibbs! We're under attack at the navy base by an unknown enemy aircraft! We need backup and medical attention down here now! _Now_ goddamn it!"

_Abby swallowed hard- she couldn't believe what she was hearing. The team- her __**friends**__- were under attack by a strange plane in the field, while the entire naval yard here was under attack by a strange plane! In an effort to make herself heard over the din, she shouted out, "Gibbs?"_

_There was a slight pause, indicating that the hysteria in her voice had not gone unnoticed. But before he could answer, the whole building was rocked again and she heard a tremendous __**crash**__; shards of glass fell onto her, indicating her bulletproof window had been smashed to pieces._

"Abby? What's going on? What's happening?" Though he tried to hide it, she could sense the panic in Gibbs' voice.

"_Gibbs, NCIS is under attack! There's some big freaky plane that's firing yellow lasers here! Half the building's been destroyed! I can't see anyone alive!"_

"Abby! Are… alright? Talk… me!"

_Oh God, no. Don't cut off now! "I don't know what's going on or who's alive right now! There are so many people who've been killed. So many people are lying dead in the streets. It's…"_

_Abby stopped speaking when she saw the giant shadow of the plane darken the sunlight that had been streaming into the lab. Her eyes widened in terror as she saw the underside of the jet's nose charging up… right above the lab._

"_Oh God… Gibbs! It's coming round again! HELP ME!" _

_The whining and crackling filled up the air like a siren. The last clear view that Abby had was of the bright yellow light filling up the entire room. There was a massive explosion and as Abby fell to the ground she had the sensation that the entire lab collapsing onto itself._

_Then… darkness…_

**NCIS**

"It was horrible." Abby said slowly. "The screaming, the explosions, the sounds of people dying- slowly, painfully…" She shook her head. "I've never experienced anything like that in my life." She took a deep breath and then went on. "After that last explosion, I felt nothing, saw nothing. I guess I must have been knocked out by the falling debris. I didn't really mind- it was a way to escape that hell. And when I woke up," she looked up at McCrae, "I was here."

"You almost sound like you regret it." The former JTF2 leader remarked.

"I'm not sorry they saved my life. Not at all! I'm real glad to be around everyone again. Gibbs and Tony and Ziva and McGee and Ducky and Palmer- I guess I should be sad that so many people died, like Vance, but I can't say I really miss him. But so many people didn't make it out. And the whole yard was destroyed from what I've gathered. I'm not ungrateful that CSIS saved my life; it's just that… well, I was used to working exclusively for NCIS. Now, with all these other people around…" She gestured with one hand.

"It's difficult to get into such a radical new routine, even when it's a vitally important one." McCrae finished, knowing what the Goth was trying to say.

"Yes. I mean, I know we need all the help we can get and if CSIS and ASIS can provide it then fine."

"You don't like working alongside them?"

"It's not that. Not entirely anyway. I haven't really spoken to many of them since most of my new job involves co-piloting. Those that I have spoken to have been very polite for the most part. Agent Warner seems alright; he's got a good sense of humour about him. Must come from being from Australia. But that Officer Brewer…" She shook her head. "There's just something about her that makes my blood boil."

"Not because she's Canadian, I hope." McCrae said jokingly.

Abby quickly looked over to him. "No, no! Of course not! It's just… her attitude. She acts as if she knows everything about everything and everyone already. It's almost as if she's trying to prove she doesn't need anyone else on this mission."

"She was a good cop." McCrae said. "I could see that in her eyes. And she's a good CSIS agent. I just get the sense that she's very independent minded and distrusting of other people. She's used to doing things for herself and tends to manifest any displeasure she has with cool remarks and biting wit- not unlike you friend Ziva David, if what I hear is right."

"At least Ziva doesn't play with McGee's head." The words were out of Abby's mouth before she could stop them. McCrae gave her a slightly surprised look.

"Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Miss Sciuto?"

Abby looked at him sharply. "No! Yes! Well… I don't know. It's just that McGee seems almost enthralled with talking to her- finding out about her, much more than he did any other woman. Except… well, me. And she knows it. It's like she's intentionally pulling McGee into trying to do just that and I don't like it! She acts so superior and now she's dragging him into her little game! She can't do that to him!"

"This is just a guess on my part," McCrae said as he rose from the table, "but I get the sense that your analysis of Stephanie isn't quite as formidable as you make it out to be. If I were a betting man, I'd say that she's the one who's trying to find out about herself."

Abby stared at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

McCrae looked at her with his eyes full of wisdom. "I've had a lot of soldiers serve under my command. I've seen a lot of them succeed. I've seen a lot of them crack. And when they do crack, it's almost always because they're holding onto something in their past that they really shouldn't. Those that don't crack either withdraw into themselves or try to act as though they don't care about anyone around them. They act as though they're superior to everyone, even when they know deep down they're not. Once they reach that point, their emotions and actions can be very unpredictable."

He made a motion to go towards the door. "If you want my honest opinion Abby, Stephanie is fighting to repress a past painful experience. And McGee has offered her the first step in dealing with it. As far as I can see, when he's around, she's starting to feel more like a human being than she wanted to. And she doesn't quite know how to take that."

**A/N: Well, what do you think of this chapter? Any particular likes or dislikes? Please review!**

**What do you want to see in the next chapter. Tony/Nigel conversation? Stephanie self-reflection? Or another new teammate recruitment mission? **


	14. Dossier of the Australian

"It's amazing the way a group of completely different people come together in the unlikeliest of times, isn't it?" Nigel remarked, examining an M-16 for any flaws or imperfections in the base's weapon room.

Tony shook his head. "No, you know what I find amazing? I find it amazing that I'm actually standing in the middle of a room _loaded_ with weapons, some of which I haven't even heard of," he gestured around the room where various weapons lay on metal tables, "and I can't think up the movie quote that's right on the tip of my tongue! Can you believe that? It's driving me insane!"

"That's because it's no quote, mate." Nigel said easily as placed the weapon back down. "It was a scene; _Hot Fuzz_, British film, 2007. The barn scene with that farmer with an accent so thick he couldn't be understood…"

"And the barn with like a hundred different automatic weapons stacked in it!" Tony finished triumphantly.

"And one gigantic sea mine that ended up blowing the police station to hell and back, don't forget."

"Forget it? That was like one of the best parts of the film! Apart from that kickass gunfight that happened just a little earlier. Man, I can't believe I forgot about that!" Tony shook his head. "I mean, who would expect something like that to happen in a little village in rural England? I mean, rural America I could understand but _this_…" He gestured with a hand. "This was something so out of the ordinary that it was just… _perfect_!"

Nigel gave a small chuckle. "Well, if things go the way we expect them to, you might find yourself in your own little shootout sooner rather than later. Not in a quiet English village, but definitely one that would rival the intensity of that scene."

Tony looked at the Australian. "You honestly think we're going into hell itself or something?"

"I don't think so, mate." Nigel returned his look. "I know so."

"And you're so confident because?" Tony prompted.

"Because we've been working on this situation for quite a while. Because we've discovered a whole lot of information that links in that direction." Nigel said evenly. "And since we've discovered that the Blood Devils are behind these mass abductions, the probability has only skyrocketed."

"I take it you think this isn't going to be a mere 'find the bad guys' secret base, swoop in and arrest them all for taking what isn't theirs'."

Nigel shook his head. "Not a chance in hell. And that's probably where we're all going when all this is all said and done."

Tony narrowed his eyes in confusion. Nigel went on, "But there's still a good deal to do before we're ready to tackle that. We have quite a few more people we need to pick up; this mission is going to be a certain bloodbath for us if we're not adequately prepared. Not that I wouldn't volunteer to be the first to take a hit for this mission, but I'd rather we have all our resources before I go and make a decision like that. Stephanie said it would be far better if we have every backup plan possible before doing what we intend to do."

Tony raised an eyebrow a fraction. "It sounds like she thinks she's the one really in charge of this op."

"She was- until this morning. Everyone in this base including me answered directly to her since the only one she reported to was Director Delcourt. Stephanie is a good CSIS operative and a very capable leader, but she's not one for having her authority or her expertise challenged. She prefers to get results the first time and she doesn't take kindly to those who question her decisions. Gibbs is a rare exception; I think even she acknowledges that he's the one who's calling the shots here now. She respects him, as we all do, but I don't think she's very happy about it."

"Yeah, I got that feeling this morning." Tony subconsciously rubbed the back of his head. "For some reason, even Gibbs' head slaps don't seem to sting as much."

"Don't take that personally. Stephanie is a very hard-line kind of person; she always has been and even I don't know the true reason for that. She made it pretty clear when I first met her a month ago that this operation is the number one priority in her mind, as it should be in everyone's, and there is no time for trying to go out of your way to be friendly. It was all business. But she's a good person as long as you're on her good side, and as long as you remain a useful asset to this mission you have nothing to worry about. I doubt that she'll do that to you again unless you do something to really piss her off, like try to seduce her or something; she won't risk her chances by doing that to one of Gibbs' top agents."

"Yeah, I don't think she's suicidal. Then again, neither am I." Tony allowed himself a small smile. "But seriously, was she always the way she was? I don't think I've ever seen her smile."

"Her smiles are few and very far between. When it does happen, it's usually a mere flash; you know- the kind that if you were to blink you'd miss it completely. I'm not going to say that she's absolutely miserable all the time, but she certainly hasn't given me the impression in the month I've known her that happiness is an emotion that comes easily to her." He looked away for brief moment. "I thought that after blowing off some steam, things would be a little different. But they weren't. And I doubt they ever will be."

"Hold on a second." Tony narrowed his eyes. "Blowing off steam?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Yeah well, you know… a way of releasing stress."

Tony's eyebrows suddenly rose high up. "Hold on a second here, my friend from Down Under! Are you saying that you and Officer Ice Queen…" He paused but his interested, wide-eyed expression spelled out perfectly what it was that he was implying.

"Only once." Nigel replied with just a bit of extra effort.

"But I thought you just said that she wasn't thinking about anything but the mission!"

"It didn't happen under any special or unique circumstances, Agent DiNozzo." Nigel responded. "No night of unbridled, lustful passion, no drunken stupor that lead to certain nocturnal activities. The stress of trying to track down leads on the disappearances of the Navy personnel was getting to us; we each needed to blow off some steam and get rid of the stress that was mounting on us. One night, it just so happened we were in the same frustrated mood at the same time in the same locked room; an hour later, we each had had our release and were in better shape to concentrate on the mission at hand."

Tony stared. "An _hour_?"

"There had been _a __lot _of stress built up over the course of a couple of weeks. We needed some way to deal with that and we did- there's nothing more to it. We both knew what it was and we both knew what it wasn't; that made it easier. Besides, even if it was something more than that for me, it wouldn't have mattered."

"Why not?"

Nigel stared at Tony. "Stephanie's a very unique woman; there's nothing standard or regular about her. If she ever _was _looking for something more then she'd have to find someone who can offer it to her." He looked away and when he spoke again it was slightly lower than usual. "She… needs someone who can give her what she needs and wants. She's not going to get that from me."

He turned back to Tony. "But that's beside the point. What matters is that we need to stop these naval personnel from being abducted and to do that we need to be at the top of our game."

"You're really devoted to this op, aren't you?" Tony asked interestedly. He wanted to know what was inside the mind of the Australian; it might come in useful to know what kind of people they were fighting alongside of.

"Bloody right I am." Nigel responded firmly. "The Blood Devils have struck Australian bases and abducted Australian Navy personnel. I'm not going to rest until I either get them back or else make sure the same thing doesn't happen to any more. That's why I'm glad I joined up with ASIS; if I hadn't then I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be a part of this."

"You'll forgive me for being slightly less than worldly on issues such as these," Tony said, "but what exactly is ASIS and what did they do to make so loyal to them?"

"Off the record background checks, is it?" Nigel smirked. "Fine then, if it'll make you happy. Well, for starters I sure as hell didn't plan on joining ASIS when I was growing up. In fact, if you were to ask my mum what I was doing back in the day when kids are supposed to be making decisions about what they're going to be doing for the rest of their lives, she'd have told you I wasn't doing anything but living in the moment and not giving a damn about what happened the next day. And she probably would have been right, considering the way a typical day for me consisted of surfing, snorkelling and generally telling the people trying to tell me what I should be doing with my life to go fuck themselves."

"Seriously?"

"Bloody serious! Protecting national security couldn't have been further down on the list! I was a wild kid who loved living on the wild side and the hell with the consequences!"

Tony grinned. He was starting to really like the Australian; he could already see a lot of his younger (and current) self in him. "Bet it must have been some ride! Surfing all day, partying all night. Checking out all the hot babes on the beach."

"Australia's are the hottest in the world!" Nigel proclaimed proudly. "And they can drink. Hell, I've known some women who can out-drink the biggest men in the whole country! Yeah, I saw that as basically my whole life until I reached twenty-one."

"Why? What happened then?"

"I was snorkelling over the reef just north of Queensland when I became… _acquainted_ with an infamous local affliction." He tilted his head back just a little. "Irukandji syndrome."

"Iroo- what?"

"Irukandji syndrome. It's an affliction brought on by the sting of a very tiny jellyfish called the Irukandji. And by small I mean _small_. Seriously- the little bastard's no bigger than your baby fingernail and virtually impossible to see in the water. You barely feel anything at first and unfortunately most people who get stung by it don't take it to mean anything. Until about ten or fifteen minutes later when your head starts to ache, your muscles cramp up and you begin to have uncontrollable spasms. I was lucky enough to be near my boat when it occurred. Another fifteen minutes or so when the syndrome _really_ sets in and I would've been one dead bastard."

"What exactly is this…Irukandji syndrome?"

Nigel gave a rather grim smile. "Imagine the worst pain you've ever experienced coursing through your entire body. Now multiply that pain by ten and imagine it continuing for over twenty-four hours." He nodded. "That's the beginning of Irukandji syndrome."

Tony stared. "The _beginning_?"

"Yeah. Not very pleasant. There's no antivenin and you can't be put under because the doctors need to know what's coming next to treat your symptoms as they come. Whether or not you survive depends on your body's ability to handle the pressure. I was in hospital for three days- the longest damn three days of my life- and wasn't completely recovered from it for another two weeks. But I'm still alive, so it's all good. And it convinced me that I needed to get off my arse and actually do something with my life!"

"So you joined ASIS?"

"Not at first. I applied to the Australian Defence Force and joined the army a few months after I recovered. Served two tours of duty in Iraq and then one in Afghanistan. Saw some things that I never thought I would up close and personal. But I enjoyed the action and quickly got into it. After I got back home, I was told that ASIS was interested in recruiting someone with combat experience; my CO had recommended me to their office in Canberra. I was looking for something that interested me and this was it; I accepted."

"And you joined Her Majesty's Secret Service of the Outback." Tony said in a light-hearted mock British tone.

Nigel smirked. "It's hardly played up like that in the media, but it offers at least some sense of satisfaction- to me anyway. ASIS is, as Gibbs has already correctly pointed out, Australia's external intelligence service. It's basically the Australian counterpart of the CIA or MI6. We assess any threats to Australia's national security or interests and act to stop them."

"And that means hunting down those who try to strike at the world's largest island?" Tony asked jokingly.

Nigel chuckled. "Hardly. We're not the widespread, assassination types like the CIA or Mossad are. Our job mainly involves gathering info, sorting through countless pieces of information and passing them on to other authorities who take steps; in that respect we operate very much like CSIS does for Canada. It's only on very important operations like this one do they send experienced personnel into the field. Works fine for me; I'm definitely not the desk type."

"You and me both." Tony agreed. "So what has your special position granted you?"

"Mostly small time stuff. There are occasional threats of strikes against Australia by extremist groups like al-Qaeda for our support for the War on Terror in Iraq and Afghanistan. One of my first jobs involved finding and locating a home-grown radicalized terrorist group in Sydney. My involvement in breaking it up was rather small compared to others but I did what I needed to do and we got the job done. And I'm sure you were listening when I explained to Gibbs about the op in East Timor."

Tony nodded. "Something about assisting civilians to escape a hotel."

"Dead on. I don't know how closely you follow international events but there was a flare up of instability in the country a couple of years ago. A band of rebel soldiers disloyal to the government seized control of a hotel in Dili popular with both wealthy locals and tourists, including a large number of Australians. I was part of the ASIS group sent in to rescue them."

"And you also said things didn't go according to plan."

Nigel shook his head. "The op was supposed to be simple: get in and extract the hostages using minimal bloodshed. We were only supposed to kill if we had no other option. Unfortunately things went to hell pretty quick; one of the maids managed to break away from the group she was being held in and ran straight towards where our team was holed up and assessing the best course of action to take. The soldier who was pursuing her caught sight of us and opened fire; we had no choice but to directly engage. The whole hotel degenerated into chaos and we were forced into moving at a much faster pace than we were planning to secure the scene. The end result was officially good; no civilians were killed and our actions allowed the government troops to retake the hotel with more ease. They got the credit of course, but that was fine; you know the best work gets done behind the scenes and is not publicized. Still, I really wish it had gone better and since then I've been hoping for a chance to do things right the first time."

"You're hoping this mission will provide you with that opportunity?" Tony asked.

Nigel gave an amused chuckle. "This mission? No. This mission isn't about personal glory. No mission should be but especially not this one. This operation is for the soul purpose of putting an end to the countless attacks on naval bases once and for all. To do that, we need to be prepared for anything. We need to be prepared to _do_ anything, even if that costs us everything."

"You talk like this is a suicide mission." Tony said, chuckling slightly.

Nigel shook his head and picked up an M-16, examining the brilliant shine of the barrel.

"Mate, you have _no idea_ how right you are about that…"

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Please review! I'm much more motivated to write and update when I get people's feedback! Constructive criticism is also welcome!**


	15. Morality and Memories

"_Ah_, Agent Gibbs." Giguère murmured as he stood typing away at a computer set up in the base's lab which had been reserved for him. "How can I be of service to you?"

The senior NCIS agent stood in front of the table which the computer in question had been set up and watched as the Frenchman continued to be type away at an increasingly fast speed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Gibbs raised an eyebrow; it seemed that the scientist could type almost as fast as could talk to himself. Here in the lab, that was probably a useful thing, as Gibbs looked around and observed the various tables and equipment lying on them. He hadn't the faintest clue what any of them could do nor did he want to know, but if it helped them succeed in their mission he would go along with it. He found himself thinking that it should be Abby in here working the lab and finding out how to beat the Blood Devils at their own game, but he remembered that Giguère had been chosen for this particular op because of skills in regards to that area. If it meant that he was in here working to find a counter-measure then Gibbs would accept that; the former DGSE agent's field skills could wait until this major part of their defence plane was achieved.

"Well for starters, you could tear yourself away from that screen long enough for me to ask you a couple of questions." The team leader responded.

"_Pardon_." Giguère replied, looking up. "I apologize. This work interests me greatly. The ability to identify an adversary's key method of attack and to neutralize and render it useless, it is very interesting and exciting. I look forward to seeing the results in the field."

"That's partly why I'm here." Gibbs said. "Until we're absolutely sure we have a defence against the Blood Devils' toxin, we can't afford to waste one moment not looking into the means to combat it. Until you've come up with something feasible, I want you to stay here and continue to work on it. Do you understand?"

"_Parfaitment_." The scientist responded. "I comprehend quite well the urgency of the matter. Reassure yourself, Agent Gibbs that I will do what is required to ensure this mission succeeds."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment. "You're very committed to something you've only heard of and been a part of for a short while."

"I am very good at adaptation. It was necessary back in the DGSE; often for success and occasionally for one's own life. You should understand that as well, Agent Gibbs; the United States Marine Corps teaches you to adapt to the situation as it comes as well, I expect."

"Maybe." Gibbs replied. "But in the Marines you're also taught loyalty and respect- and the concept of leaving no one behind. You learn about the people you're working with and you make sure that you never become indifferent to the situation. That's something I'm not sure you would have learned in the DGSE."

Giguère looked at Gibbs and leaned back against the wall. "You do not trust me."

"I don't like the cold way in which you operate, no." Gibbs responded with just a touch of terseness in his voice. "Blinding those CIA operatives before gunning them down and going on as though nothing has happened? That's not the way I expect people under my command to operate."

"Had I not acted the way I did Agent Gibbs, we would not be having this conversation." Giguère said easily. "It was either a matter of doing what I did or allowing the situation to be put into their favour. That was not an option- especially in light of the revelation concerning the involvement of the Blood Devils."

"Even if that's true," Gibbs replied, "I expect my team members to follow my command and the orders I give them. There's no room in this operation for any unorthodox, vigilante tactics, even if they're meant to help."

"You believe I will not follow your orders?" Giguère sounded half-surprised. "I cannot say that I blame you; after all, what do you know of me other than what has been provided for you by the Director Delcourt? But I can assure you that your concerns are unfounded. I have just as much wish to stop the Blood Devils as you do; after all they have attacked French naval bases and abducted French naval personnel. I do not wish to see the lives of so many good men and women go to waste."

"Well, we'll see about that." Gibbs' gut told him in that in all probability the man was most likely telling the truth, but he wasn't about to put too much stock on pure instinct- not on this mission anyway. Any other time would have been a different story, but this situation was unique- very unique- and he was not about to race to conclusions or judgments right off the bat when so much was at stake. "In the meantime, I want to make sure I'm up to date on my team's profiles, and so far all I've heard about you has been unclear and unhelpful."

"As is usually the case with external security agencies." Giguère responded, gesturing with a hand. "The DGSE was the only true employment of which I was ever a part in my life. I wanted to help France herself and protect it from those who wish to harm either it or its interests. Sometimes that work was controversial- very controversial. But…" he paused for a moment, "I have no regrets for any actions I have taken. They were all done for the good of the country and I had no qualms about using any means to protect it."

"Yeah. I got that much from the scene in the lab back there."

"It is true that not everyone would look at what I did with appreciation, but I believe the positives outweighed the negatives most of the time. I worked quite a few operations in Africa, especially in former French colonies. Quite a few of my operations ran in Algeria and Morocco, breaking up extremist groups planning to attack French interests in the country and then France herself. I can look at what I accomplished in that time and know that what I did was the correct move, despite what some people might believe."

"Are there a lot of those people who have that opinion of what you do?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"I am sure there are a number of individuals who would have preferred that I did things in a different way, but that is of no matter. I accomplished what needed to be accomplished and that is all that mattered."

"A very consequentialistic view of the world then." Gibbs remarked coolly. "'The end justifies the means', is that the code you live by, Professor?"

"If you wish to put it in that regard, yes- I do." Giguère replied seriously. "If something is to be accomplished then it matters not how it is done as long as it is done. That is something that I do firmly believe in, Agent Gibbs. However, it is not as easy as it may seem. The decisions I made were never simple; some of them were very difficult to make. I did my job was required and was commended for it. Still," he paused for a moment, "there are some nights where it is very difficult to sleep."

Gibbs remained silent for a moment, watching the Frenchman closely. Despite the way he had apparently operated and conducted himself in his past operations, the man seemed to have at least some sense of morality. Not the kind he personally would have chosen but some sense of it nonetheless. It seemed to the ex-sniper that whatever the scientist had done in his past operations had, in his mind, been for the greater good and that the means were almost always justified as long as the end result was a good one, but there was also a troubled sense around him as well- as if he was not always comfortable with the actions that must be taken. Oh, Gibbs had no doubt that Giguère would do something controversial without question if he knew it benefited the greater good, but the senior agent had a strong suspicion that once everything was said and done, there would often be a rather large weight on the mind of the ex-DGSE operative.

"So why go to the CIA?" Gibbs asked finally. "If you have problems with your conscience, I would have thought that would be the last place you'd want to end up."

Giguère smiled. "Because I still want to help make the world a more secure and safer place. Whatever you might believe about the CIA, they are good at obtaining resources and spare very little expense to obtain them. My job there, as I understood when Paris sent me, was to research different methods of biological weapons; experiments, studies, eventual treatments. It was very exciting for me; a better opportunity than I was being offered by my own government. They offered me the position and I accepted."

"Experiments with biological weapons." Gibbs said with a detectable distaste. "I guess that really does fit into your world of 'the end justifies the means'. I knew the CIA liked to get their hands dirty, but that's a little extreme- even in the name of national security."

"It was not testing these agents on prisoners, Agent Gibbs!" Giguère said with a sudden fire, drawing himself to full height and looking the team leader in the eye. "It was not testing on human beings at all! I would not have tolerated that under any circumstances! To believe that the way one conducts oneself justifies how the end comes about, to do whatever is necessary to save and preserve life- yes I do believe in that, but _not_ when it crosses such boundaries! My research was strictly experimental in the preliminary stages; protein synthesis, genetic structures. Never, _never_ would it have crossed into infecting people! I would not have allowed that!"

Gibbs shrugged. "You didn't seem to have any qualms about gunning down your former employers after permanently blinding them. Why would something like this bother you?"

"I do not dismiss the fact that my record is not entirely clean, Agent Gibbs." Giguère responded defensively. "It is true that it is probably far from being so. I have killed many people in a variety of ways- guns, bombs, bare hands, even once with a table saw! But never have I done that as part of scientific work! That is barbaric! Inhuman! It is no better than the cowardly actions of the Blood Devils themselves!"

Gibbs merely regarded Giguère with an unreadable expression. The Frenchman took a deep breath and continued more slowly. "_Veuillez m'excuser._ I am sorry. I did not mean to get so worked up about that."

"Never apologize." Gibbs said simply. Giguère looked at him curiously. "It's a sign of weakness. And if you really feel that strongly about drawing a line between yourself and the Blood Devils, you'll prove that in what you do from here on out."

"Yes." Giguère agreed. "It is vitally important to keep that in mind. Must ensure that all actions taken are in defiance of the Blood Devils. We cannot afford mistakes or… what is the English expression? Second-guesses of oneself?"

"No, we can't." Gibbs said, drawing himself up to his own full height. "It was mistakes such as the ones we made," _technically that __**I**__ made_, "that got us into this situation in the first place. I'm not willing to let that happen again. When the time comes, I intend to be prepared and not give an inch to these bastards. That's why we need that counter-measure as soon as possible."

"Absolutely." Giguère turned his attention back to the computer in front of him. "That is precisely what I am devoting my full attention to right at this moment. The samples, the analysis- everything that can be used to our advantage."

"Have you been able to get anything definitive yet?" Gibbs asked, lowering his formality just a touch.

"It is still in the early stages. I will not know anything for certain for quite some time. But you may rest assured that I will alert you at the very first positive sign I come across."

"Do that." Gibbs ordered, beginning to turn on his heel to walk out. "Your field skills can wait until after we've got that counter-measure."

"Of course, Agent Gibbs." Giguère's attention was now fully on his computer and he started typing away again at his usual fast pace.

As Gibbs strode out of the lab towards his room, he felt a sense of weight being lifted off his shoulders. While he was still not fully sure of what to make of Giguère, he decided that for now it was a pretty safe bet that he would do what was necessary. If he could offer up a defence against the Blood Devils, it would be foolish to reject it. And like it or not, he thought privately, the Frenchman's philosophy of 'the end justifies the means' might very well be put to use against their enemy; if so, and it proved to be effective, then that would be another advantage it would be foolish to turn down.

He walked through the door and entered the room that had been designated for him. Apart from Stephanie, he was the only one who had been given a room all to himself; everyone else was allotted bunk beds. The room itself wasn't especially special, housing merely a bed, a desk with a computer on it and an adjoining bathroom. That didn't matter much to Gibbs; he was here to do a job, not to wallow in luxury.

On his desk were a couple of file folders containing, as he already knew, the dossiers of a few of the specialists that Director Delcourt had sent to them. Stephanie had no doubt ordered that he be given full personal access- a rather surprising move considering her reluctance to relinquish authority. Still, she was at least going along with his orders; if she wanted this to go smoothly- well, as smoothly as possible given the circumstances- she'd continue with that.

Taking his glasses out of his breast pocket, he put them on and opened up one of the file folders.

**NCIS**

…_recruitment of Professor Giguère was a success despite the unexpected setbacks. Currently unknown as to how the situation will affect CSIS' relationship with the CIA, but it is hopeful that Agent Rothwell was acting alone. Professor Giguère's field skills were given a sample taste during recruitment and have shown so far to be fairly adequate, but will have to wait before giving a more detailed conclusion. Agent Gibbs' leadership skills are as expected, but opposition to CSIS involvement in the leadership role is slightly disconcerting. Will be keeping an eye on him to see if this poses problems to overall mission._

Stephanie sighed as she sent of the report to Director Delcourt. All in all, things were going quite well so far. It was true they had completed only one assignment and recruited only one of the specialists, but it had given them a chance to gain a feel for working together. And if this mission was to be a success, then they would have to learn each others strengths and weaknesses to compensate for each other.

_If this mission was to be a success_. She leaned back in her chair and let out a silent heavy sigh. What was the measure of success for this mission? Stopping the Blood Devils? Yes. Preventing more naval personnel from being abducted? Yes. Finding out who was really the one pulling the strings of this whole affair from behind the scenes? If they existed.

What else could it possibly involve? Nothing.

_How about surviving?_

She closed her eyes and gave her head a brief shake. No, she couldn't think about that. To think about something like that at this point would be selfish and unhelpful. She couldn't afford to be- not on a mission like this.

_What are the chances we'll come back anyway?_

That was something she'd have to bring up with Gibbs sooner or later. He was leader, despite what anyone thought; he'd have to know about that sooner or later.

It was strange not being in control any more. Not just of the team, but of her life. To be racing off on a mission that could save countless lives- at the cost of their own. Why would she do that? On someone else's orders? She shook her head again. How long had it been since she hadn't been in control of her own life?

_Steph, come on, can't I have an ice cream?_

She closed her eyes.

_Come on Steph, quick before Mom and Dad come back!_

Her heart started beating faster. Her breath unconsciously started to pick up audibly. She pinched the bridge of her nose and swallowed hard.

It's not happening now. It's not…

_Hello, children…_

She felt her muscles tense up.

_Officer Brewer…_

She began to feel her lip begin to tremble.

He was there. With her- murmuring in her ear…

"_Officer Brewer, are you there?"_

Stephanie's eyes snapped open. The image of her office swirled back into her view, forcing her back to the present. She felt her heart rate slowly decrease and she began breathing normally again.

"_Brewer, don't make me come over there personally. This is where you said you'd be and I like my team to be reachable."_

It was only then that Stephanie realized that the voice was coming from the intercom beside her desk- Gibbs' voice. Not… the other…

Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath, wiped a bit of sweat off her brow, reached over and flicked the _Talk_ switch. "Yes, Agent Gibbs?" She said, her voice perfectly normal. "Can I help you?"

"_Number One- you can start being reachable the first time I call you. Number Two- make sure that the Thunderbird and everything else that we need for field work is on board. We're setting off for a double pick-up tomorrow morning at 0600; going to grab one of the specialists and then go get the other one before coming back here."_

"But Agent Gibbs, the two dossiers I put on your desk are of specialists on two separate continents. I'm not sure if we'll have the fuel to make the double journey before getting back."

"_If we need fuel we can always pick it up at our stops. That's possible for this aircraft, isn't it?"_

"Well yes, but…"

"_Do you have a problem with my decision, Brewer?"_

"No, Gibbs." She bit her lip and felt her jaw muscles clench. "I merely wanted to know which destination I should tell the pilots to head to first."

There was a slight pause. Then Gibbs replied:

"_Rio de Janeiro."_

**A/N: Ooh, now things are really getting interesting! What do you think so far? Please review and send me feedback. Constructive criticism is also welcome!**


	16. Dossier of the Renegade

_**Day 2: CF-21 Thunderbird ('**_**NCIS**_**'); 25 miles northwest of Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro State, Brazil, 16:46 BST**_

"Oh, boy!" Tony said gleefully. "Brazil, here I come! Beaches, warm weather, drop-dead gorgeous tanned Brazilian babes! What more can a man ask for?"

"If you do not focus on the mission at hand Tony, the only one who will be dropping dead will be you."

"Aw, lighten up Zee!" Tony turned to face his partner beside him to the right. "Come on! How often can you say that you're making a virtual snap decision to head down to Rio? You got to enjoy yourself a little bit! Kick back and relax just a tad!"

"If you want to make it out of Rio alive, Agent DiNozzo, you won't let your guard down for a _second_." It was Stephanie who pointed this out. She stood across from Tony in the debriefing room; the room itself was not very large- big enough only to house a long metal rectangular table in the centre about ten feet long and six feet wide. What made it unique was that there was a large two-sided screen about four feet high attached directly to its centre, where something could be projected identically on either side. Tony, Gibbs and Ziva stood on one side of the table while Nigel, McGee and Stephanie stood on the other side; the latter's arms were crossed and her face gave a slightly disapproving look. Giguère was not with them on board; he was back at the DC facility running tests and trying to come up with an effective counter for the Blood Devils' nerve toxin.

_Yeah, and maybe I ought to throw myself in the Arctic so I'll become as cold and frosty as you_, Tony thought to himself. But he had the good sense not to say it out loud. Instead he said, "I just hope we have the chance for some relaxation and downtime before we have to go flying off again to God-knows-where. We've been on this plane for almost ten hours straight and I need my fresh air! Hey, I wonder if we'll have the chance to visit Copacabana. I hear the beach there is in-cred-i-ble! And maybe Abby will want to fly past the Corcovado and see that big Christ the Redeemer statue at the top; her bowling with nuns and all. And I wouldn't mind…"

_Thwack!_

"Get your mind out of the tourist map and back onto the mission, DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice from the left snapped him back to reality

"Got it, boss."

"We don't have the time for sightseeing, Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie said frostily. "We have a mission to complete and that mission involves recruiting a person of vital importance to our team. Nigel," she turned to her right, her voice now that of authority order-giving, "read out the dossier of the individual in question."

Apparently Nigel had been prepared for the order this time round, as he immediately brought up a remote that seemed to operate the screen attached to the table; obviously the Canadian Air Force was not one for being unprepared in the slightest.

"Got it."

He clicked a button on the remote and the screens on both sides lit up and filled with a list of information. McGee stared in awe at the technology; Tony, upon seeing the sex and age of the individual in question, groaned in disappointment at the lack of a picture to accompany the information. Gibbs ignored both of them and focused his attention of the screen.

**Name: **_**Maria Alice Soares**_

**Gender: **_**Female**_

**Date of Birth: **_**October 15, 1979**_

**Place of Birth: **_**Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro State, Brazil**_

**Nationality: **_**Brazilian**_

**Education: **_**Unknown**_

**Attributes: **

**- **_**Highly adept at urban warfare as well as combat in confined, restricted environments  
**_**- **_**Above average skills at hand-to-hand combat**_

**Analysis: **_**The subject is a three year member of the **_**Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais (**_**Special Police Operations Battalion**_**- BOPE), **_**a Special Forces unit of the Military Police of the Rio de Janeiro State. CSIS reports indicate that she is a very capable combatant in enclosed areas with a specialization in assault weapons, but is also rather dismissive of relying on others, even her own teammates. Unconfirmed reports also state that she has a rather aggressive personality that manifests itself in fiery outbursts both in combat and out of it. CSIS has negotiated with the BOPE for her transfer to the team.**_

"'Bope'?" Tony said out loud. "Sounds like the name of a punk rock band or something."

"The BOPE is just about the strongest and most efficient combat force in Brazil." Stephanie responded.

"Their training and skills are designed for counter-terrorism, especially in areas with difficult access such as the slum houses in Rio where combat often becomes close. Maria Alice Soares is, according to Director Delcourt, the only female member of that unit and is just about the most skilled member in everything they're involved in. Her experience and skills will be very useful against the Blood Devils."

"But is she going to be willing to just pick up and join a new team?" This question was posed by McGee, who was standing on Stephanie's left.

"CSIS had negotiated for her transfer with the BOPE; they're expected to release her over to us when we arrive." Nigel explained. "As for whether she'll do it with an open heart, well, don't expect her to run up and hug everyone when she sees us."

"Is this going to be a problem?" Gibbs asked.

"Her personality, unfortunately, is not very well known and any reports we receive are sketchy at best - even by our standards." Stephanie responded. "What we do know for certain is that Officer Soares is very dedicated to her _chosen_ profession and doesn't take kindly to those trying to interfere in it. She may very well not want to come along. And even if she does, I doubt she'll be overly enthusiastic about it. If that's the case then we'll just have to convince her; the Director thinks she can be an important ally and that's all that matters."

"And naturally what the all-mighty Director says goes." Tony said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Stephanie fixed him with a cool look. "He doesn't like to make mistakes; in the type of work we're in, mistakes could be very costly. If he makes a decision then there is a very good reason for it. And on this type of mission, there is no room for bad decisions."

Gibbs regarded the young CSIS officer closely. He was getting a feeling in his gut that told him that something about what she said had a hidden meaning. In fact, he was starting the get the feeling that quite a bit about this whole mission had some kind of hidden meaning- something that he was not being told. However he didn't have the chance then to say anything about it, for at that moment McCrae's voice came over the speaker system from the cockpit. "_Better prepare yourselves, everyone. ETA at the Jockey Club about ten minutes. Best get ready near the exit._"

Abby's voice soon followed. "_And for those of you fortunate enough to be near a window right now, such as myself, we'll be flying low over the city, so be sure to get a good look. If you were to direct your attention to the left as we approach the Jockey Club, you will catch a view of a beautiful lake with a name that I have absolutely no idea how to pronounce. To the right, you will see the mighty statue of Christ with his wide open arms over the city.__Thank you for choosing Air NCIS; we hope you choose to fly with us again real soon._"

Gibbs swore he heard the sound of McCrae chuckling just before the connection was cut and was fairly certain that Tony was about to do the same thing when Stephanie abruptly cut in. "_Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas_."

Numerous heads turned to her. "I'm sorry?" Gibbs asked

"The name of the lake near the Jockey Club." She explained. "_Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas_."

"How do you know that?" Tony asked.

Stephanie regarded him with a look of almost pity. "I always learn everything about anything I deal with before I actually deal with it, Agent DiNozzo. You can't afford to be ill-prepared whenever you're going into something like this."

"So… what does it mean?"

"It's a lagoon, DiNozzo." She replied rather coolly. "A large lagoon. As to the rest of the name, I have no idea; you'd have to ask someone with knowledge of Portuguese."

Tony gave a mock shiver before glancing over at Ziva; the former Israeli merely shook her head. "I am sorry, Tony; Portuguese is one of the few languages I am not familiar with."

"You're kidding me! Well, what about this Jockey Club we're landing at? I mean nothing against clubs and everything but I was hoping we'd land closer to downtown. You know, right in the middle of a real South American city!"

"Their request DiNozzo, not mine." Gibbs interjected. "If you want to know, maybe you should ask them when we land in a few minutes." The senior agent began to walk towards the door. "Prepare for landing, people! Everyone into their field gear! Weapons and Kevlar vests under uniforms are mandatory this time round; I don't want anyone catching a stray bullet before we even retrieve our package. Let's move out!"

**NCIS**

_**Jockey Club- Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro State, Brazil, 16:58 BST**_

The sun was just beginning to begin its descent on the horizon when the six agents stepped out of the aircraft and onto the ground. All of them were surprised with how warm it was outside; despite it being September, it had to be at least in the high seventies (or, as Stephanie and Nigel referred to in their Celsius temperature scale, mid twenties). Though the sun was no longer at the high point, it was still notably strong; Gibbs could feel the still powerful rays beat down on his face. He found himself wishing that he had one of his NCIS caps to shield his eyes.

He was greeted by the sight of a tall, broad man with a dark goatee and a dark complexion walk definitively towards him. The man was wearing a dark uniform similar to those worn by SWAT teams back in the US; all-black uniform with a bullet proof vest, this one sporting the words _Operações Especias _on the right side of the upper chest. A Taurus PT92 pistol was strapped to his upper right leg, and a belt containing numerous pouches was secured just below his waist. On his upper left arm was an insignia featuring a red circle encasing a smaller, filled in black one; in the centre of the black circle was a picture of a human skull being impaled from top to bottom with a golden knife. Two crossed, golden revolvers were half hidden behind the skull in the same manner as a skull and cross-bones. Behind the man, Gibbs could see two heavily armoured black vans with numerous people standing around them. These individuals were dressed in the same manner that the man was with the additions of balaclavas and helmets on their heads. All of them stood at attention, holding various assault rifles and machine guns in their hands.

"_Olá_." The man reached out with his hand, which Gibbs shook. "Captain Silvio Ventura, _Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais_."

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Naval Criminal Investigative Services." The senior agent quickly introduced the rest of his team.

"I'm a little surprised that we should meet under these circumstances, Agent Gibbs." Ventura spoke with a noticeably distinct accent. "It's not often that American agencies request our help, let alone request that we lend to them one of our most skilled officers."

"Well, these aren't normal circumstances." Gibbs replied firmly; he had had enough issues dealing with the CIA during his first recruitment assignment- he wasn't about to let himself get mixed up in the middle of another one. "We have vital need of the best resources we can get and right now Officer Soares is one of those resources. I wouldn't be telling you this if it wasn't absolutely important, and it's been judged to be absolutely important."

"By CSIS- yes, I know." Ventura cast a look at Stephanie. "I heard as much myself. Normally I'd ask you what the hell you needed to pull one of my top officers for, but that's probably classified, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Stephanie replied immediately. "You should have known that already; discretion and classification were part of the deal that CSIS negotiated with the BOPE. It was what your upper leadership agreed to."

"Relax." Ventura held up a hand. "I'm not going to go interfering with whatever it is you people are up to. I just want to make it clear that this is an act of trust on our behalf; we're lending you one of the best members of this team." He looked Gibbs straight in the eye. "I expect that once whatever you're doing is concluded, she'll be returned to us."

Gibbs saw a slight, barely visible movement out of the corner of his eye where Stephanie was standing but did not look over towards her. Instead he kept his stare firmly on the Brazilian's and replied, "As long as everything goes off as I intend it, there should be no problems when it comes to dealing with that."

"Good." Ventura took a step back and motioned with one arm in the direction of the armoured vans. "Now that we have straightened that out, shall we go?"

The team walked towards the first of the vans, which glistened in the slowly setting sun. As they all piled in, Gibbs was surprised at how large they were; even the vehicles back at NCIS hadn't been this spacey. All of them could fit in a single one; Gibbs rode in the front passenger seat alongside Ventura while Stephanie, Ziva and McGee sat in the row just behind them. Nigel and Tony took the back row. The other officers piled into the second van and as Ventura started the vehicle and punched the gas towards the exit of the airfield, the other one was quick to follow reasonably close behind it.

"I wasn't expecting to land at a jockey's club." Tony called up from the back as they sped down the road. "I thought we would be stopping off at a military airport or the main international airport or something."

"If you did then you'd be stuck here forever, Agent DiNozzo." Ventura responded back. "Here in Rio, traffic jams are a 24-hour occurrence. If you try going down any of the main roads from any of the main airports, it'll take you at least forty-five minutes to get where you need to go. From here, it is much less busy and we should be able to cut about half an hour from the time it will take to reach our destination."

"And where exactly is that?" Gibbs asked.

"The outskirts of Rocinha. It's a large favela to the southwest of here. Our team was preparing for conducting a night raid into the area. Officer Soares is among those waiting there along with about a dozen other officers; once we reach the rendezvous point, she will be transferred to your command."

"Is the situation in Rocinha so bad that it requires a night raid by the most heavily armed and trained tactical squad in Brazil?"

"No doubt you've heard non-stop stories about the dangers of being in Brazil and Rio especially." Ventura gave a humourless smile. "Unfortunately, many of them happen to be true. Rio is a very big city with a very big gap between the wealthy and the poor. In _favelas_such as Rocinha, gangs and drug traffickers have a lot of influence because of their working relationship with many of the inhabitants. In addition, there is much corruption everywhere, especially within the police force itself. I have done my best to purge any corrupt elements from my unit, but…" He shrugged. "There is unfortunately only so much one can do."

"Is that the reason for the extra security?" Nigel asked from the backseat, shooting a glance back at the other van following closely behind them.

"Yes. Rio unfortunately has a higher rate of murder and abductions than many other large North American cities. And when it comes right down to it, non-Brazilians are the ones who have the most to worry if they go somewhere they shouldn't. Anyone who looks like a foreigner in the wrong part of this city can become an instant target."

"You sound very pissed off about it." Gibbs remarked.

Ventura shook his head. "I am proud of my country, Agent Gibbs- very proud. Brazil is one of the fastest growing powers in the world, and especially in Latin America. Our economy and military capabilities are steadily growing stronger by the day. But it is difficult to see that sometimes when you constantly are surrounded by corruption and violence in a city that is supposed to be one of the lights of this country. I will not wait around while the politicians to get off their asses and decide to do something about the gangs and drug dealers and the amount of people they kill every day. It is one of the reasons I joined this unit."

"CSIS doesn't have a clear report on the personality of Maria Alice Soares, and the Director would like one." Stephanie said. "We may not have an official one but it would be appreciated if you could provide us with any details you have."

"Information on Soares, huh?" Ventura responded, shaking his head slightly. "That's quite an illusive commodity. Even I don't fully know everything about her and I've been working with her for almost two years."

"What _do_ you know?" Gibbs asked.

"That she's the ideal candidate for any type of urban warfare mission, which we specialize in. Soares was born poor in Rio - one of the favelas, though she's never specified which one. As far as I know, she had never completed any type of secondary education. She joined the national police force when she was eighteen and was there until she applied and was accepted into the BOPE three years ago. She has served under my command for nearly two years."

"What's she like to work with?"

"She is an enigma, Agent Gibbs. She is one of the few people you could trust with your life and yet count on to take it away at a moment's notice." At Gibbs' confused look, he went on. "Soares is fiercely dedicated to her job, yet finds it difficult to rely or trust people who are around her to do the same thing, even when they share the same goals."

"She is not reliable?" Ziva asked.

"She is very reliable, as long as you don't do anything to get in her way." Ventura said. "She will single-handedly charge into a hostile building in order to rescue a wounded comrade, yet would personally kill that same person if they managed to do something that would piss her off enough. One of the new recruits last year made the mistake of poking her in the shoulder and making fun of her gender; she snapped his forearm in three separate places. After that, all the guys were wary of her; they treated her with respect and considered her one of guys, if not _the_ toughest member of the team, but they never got very close to her. Then again, I doubt she's ever wanted to be close with anyone."

"So how do you do your job effectively when everyone is so wary of her and isn't sure about her, uh… mood swings?" McGee proposed from just behind the Brazilian.

"In this business Agent McGee, you either do what is necessary, regardless of what that may cost you, or you stand back and let everything burn while you stand back and watch it go out of control. There is no easy choice - there is merely one that is easier to deal with on a daily basis." He looked straight along the stretch of road. "I'd much rather deal with a hot-tempered person that I know than sit back and watch this city get ruined by people who wouldn't care less what you looked like before they killed you."

The Brazilian lapsed into silence and everyone else in the van followed his example, even Tony. For the next ten minutes or so, Gibbs watched as they sped along the road towards their destination. There were very few cars on the road along with them and as they passed several bars and row upon row of open shops, selling everything to anyone willing to spend some money in them.

Gibbs couldn't help but feel a sense of uneasiness return to his gut. It was the same one he had felt when they were in the debriefing room prior to landing, and again when they were talking with Ventura at the Jockey Club. In both instances, it had been surrounding something that Stephanie had either said or did, and Gibbs was starting to wonder exactly what it was that made him so uneasy. It seemed to him that Stephanie, although clearly determined to maintain CSIS' authority in the operation and keep Canadian interests as a large objective, had mostly conceded that Gibbs needed to be made aware of anything important that could affect the mission. However, he couldn't shake the fact that there was something that she was deliberately keeping from him - something that was important to the success of this operation. Gibbs didn't like being kept in the dark about anything, but especially not things that put both the lives of his team and innocent people at risk. He disliked it even less when they were concealed behind a barrier of 'national security and interests', whether it was his government that was involved or another one. He made up his mind to tackle Brewer on the subject at the first available opportunity; her icy exterior would just have to be melted down in order for him to get the answers he needed, whether she wanted to give them or not.

The next time he looked up was at Ventura's voice. "There's Rocinha up ahead in the hills. My team is waiting just outside the perimeter; you'll be able to pick up Soares when we get there in just a moment."

Gibbs followed the man's pointed finger and caught a glimpse of what had to be the largest urbanized slum he had ever seen; rows upon rows of sometimes small, sometimes larger houses were packed together and piled one over the other;all part of one massive amalgamation of different colours and textures with small spaces here and there for narrow streets. Gibbs raised an eyebrow; this was _definitely_ not something he was used to seeing - in DC or anywhere else during his tenure as a marine. He had certainly heard of such things but never had he actually _seen_ them. It was certainly an eye-opening experience. If they had not been there on such an important mission, he might have had the time to…

Gibbs' thoughts were brought to a sudden and abrupt halt, as Ventura suddenly shouted something curt and loud in Portuguese and slammed on the brakes. Only the fact that Gibbs was wearing his seatbelt prevented him from going headfirst through the windshield and he could hear the startled grunts of the rest of his team as they jerked forward as well. Ventura jammed the vehicle into 'park' and jumped out of the van, sprinting forward.

"Boss, what's going on?" But Tony found he was talking to thin air as Gibbs had already exited the vehicle as well.

The senior agent soon found out what was going on and what had caused their abrupt halt; directly in front of where they had stopped was a large square area boxed in with a solid metal fence surrounding it on three sides with numerous armoured vehicles and several empty oil cans scattered everywhere. Bullet holes and shell casing lay everywhere- in the vehicles, in the cans, in the fence. It looked like the scene right out of a war film had taken place. But that was only part of the reason for their abrupt stop; at least a dozen BOPE officers lay motionless on the ground, scattered like tombstones in the square. Blood soaked the ground, their clothes and their faces. Ventura was kneeling over a young man in serious pain who looked like he had sustained a severe leg wound, and was speaking rapidly to him in Portuguese.

"_Que diabos aconteceu aqui?" __**("What the hell happened here?")**_

_"Foi... foi uma emboscada... os bastardos nos atacaram, nos pegaram de surpresa... sem chance..." __**("It... it was an ambush... they- the bastards attacked... caught us off guard... we- didn't have time to...")**_

_"Quem? Quem atacou vocês?" __**(**_**_"Who? Who attacked you?")_**

___"Todo mundo... o pessoal da Rocinha, o pessoal do Morro do Alemão, se juntaram, tudo ao mesmo tempo." _**("Everybody… the people from Rocinha, the people from Morro do Alemão… got together, and attacked us.")**_  
__  
"Como assim? __Tudo ao mesmo tempo? Tu num tá querendo dizer que os filhos de uma puta tão trabalhando juntos agora, né?" __**("What do you mean 'at the same time'? Don't tell me those sons of bitches are working together?")  
**__  
__"Foi um massacre. __Todo mundo morreu." __**("It was a massacre. They... killed everyone...")**_

_"Todo mundo? Num sobrou ninguém?" **(**__**"Everyone? There is no one left?")**_

___"Levaram... Levaram eles..." _**(**_**"They... took them…")**_

_**"**Quem que eles levaram do nosso time?" **(****"What? They took some of our team?")**_

_"Cinco, ao menos. Eu não sei quem com certeza... Costa talvez... __E o Pereira... e…" **(**__**"Five... at least... I- don't know who they were... for certain... Costa perhaps... and Pereira... and...")**_

___"Quem mais?" _**_("And what?")_**

_"Soares..."_

_"Merda! Faz quanto tempo?" **(****"**_**_Shit_**_**! How long ago did this happen?")**_

_"Dez, quinze minutos, num sei. Eles levaram eles pro morro, pra Rocinha. Não sei..." **(****"Ten minutes... maybe fifteen... They took them... into the favela... into Rocinha... I don't- know...")**_

_"Ahh, não, cê não vai morrer agora, soldado, cê tá me ouvindo! Tô te dando uma ordem! Cadê a merda desse médico!" **(****"Don't you dare think about dying sergeant, do you hear me? That's an order! Where's the goddamn medic?")**_

One of the balaclava-clad officers in the other van who had immediately rushed up into the area after Gibbs' team got on his radio and began speaking in rapid Portuguese. Another one quickly rushed over and began administering assistance to the wounded officer.

Ventura stood up and stormed back towards to the team just a few short metres away, his face as dark as a thundercloud.

"What happened here?" Gibbs asked.

"A goddamn _ambush_, that's what happened!" The Brazilian literally spat out. "It was a surprise combined attack. The second we left them, they attacked them! The hill lords of Rocinha and Morro do Alemão, another _favela_, at the same time! They allied themselves together and ambushed my team, _aqueles filhos de uma puta!"_

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Yes, but not like this anyway. We've seen some low-level cooperation between the two rival lords sometimes, but never anything like _this_! Goddammit!" He angrily kicked the van.

"Are there any survivors?" Stephanie asked. "Anyone at all?"

"If that young sergeant over there doesn't bleed out, then yes." Ventura fumed. "Everyone else here is dead. _My_ team is dead!" He angrily shook his head. "But unfortunately right now, that's the least of our worries."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"That sergeant told me that a number of the team were taken by the hill guards into Rocinha. Abducted them. Doing God knows what to them right now! Have you ever seen what some of these fuckers do to people who oppose them? It is _not_ pleasant!"

"Ventura?"

The Brazilian looked Gibbs in the eye. "At least five officers were abducted, Agent Gibbs. Four of them were some of the best men under my command."

Gibbs returned the look unblinkingly. "And the fifth?"

Ventura had subtle but noticeable fire in his eye. "Maria Alice Soares."

There was a collective display of groans and other expressions of shock and disbelief from behind them. "You've got to be bloody kidding me!" Nigel exclaimed.

Tony was shaking his head and muttering under his breath, "Why can't any of these missions be a simple 'sure guys, I'll join you and not put you in the middle of a gunfight to get to me'?"

Gibbs merely looked up into the sky; the sun had gone down quite a bit in the short time since they had landed and was rapidly sinking even lower. "How long until nightfall?"

"Hard to say at this time of year. Maybe an hour, if we are lucky."

"Then we better work fast and come up with a new strategy." Gibbs looked up into the hills at Rocinha. "I doubt whoever took Soares will hand her over as willingly as they took her. Alive, anyway."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback! Constructive criticism is also welcome!**

**And a HUGE thank you to WriterKos for her help in making sure that the Portuguese translations, details surrounding Brazil, Rio and many of the details needed were accurate! Thank you very much Kos! **


	17. Faca na Caveira

_**Day 2: Outskirts of Rocinha **_**favela**_**- Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro State, Brazil, 17:26 BST**_

"Okay, listen up, ladies and gentlemen." Tony announced. "Our would-be team member recruit has been MIA for roughly forty-five minutes. Average speed at being dragged or forced into a neighbourhood such as this would be about four miles an hour depending on fatigue levels in the kidnappers. That gives us a range of roughly anywhere within a three mile radius of where we are now. What I need out of each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every single-floor house, double-floor house, warehouse, storage house, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area. Our recruit's name is Maria Alice Soares. Let's go get her!"

_Thwack!_

"Ouch! Thanks boss."

"If you've finished with the fancy movie monologues DiNozzo, perhaps we can get back to serious business." Gibbs turned to face the rest of the squad, which composed of both his team and Ventura's. His personal squad had neglected to bring along any weapons other than their handguns, since of course they had expected this to be a simple pick-up mission, so Ventura had surprisingly offered them an assortment of spare M-16s and extra ammo cartridges. The Brazilian clearly lacked the numbers right now to launch a full-scale rescue mission into Rocinha with only his team after losing so many officers, and the fact that he was willing to accept help in the mission from what remained of NCIS was a bit surprising. Still, Gibbs would be damned if he just let this go without being a part of it.

"Are you sure about this, Agent Gibbs?" Ventura asked. He had retrieved a helmet of his own from one of the vans and was now brandishing an M-16 of his own. "Operations in _favelas_ such as this are often and intense and extremely dangerous to those who are unfamiliar with them. Do you have enough confidence in your team that they will be able to handle something like this?"

"I have enough confidence in my team leading and team building abilities to know when they are capable of doing something, Captain." Gibbs replied firmly. "And believe me when I say that if I didn't think they were suited for this, they wouldn't be here." The senior agent had already been anticipating this question and had given it some brief but serious thought prior to proposing the planned course of action. He knew full well that NCIS had not been designed for combat operations, but that hadn't stopped them from undertaking related acts in the field. He would just have to rely on his old marine war knowledge and leadership skills in order to get them through this; if any one of his team died, he would always consider it to be his fault above anyone else's. Besides, if he couldn't get them through this, how the hell would he get a larger group through the mission against the Blood Devils? There was a time and a place for doubt about a situation, and this sure as hell wasn't it.

"I'm glad to hear that." The Brazilian motioned to what was left of his team to come and join them. "I'd hate to think of what would happen to this mission if you could not trust them to do what is right."

"I assume that means you've got a plan?" Gibbs asked.

Ventura nodded. "Yes. It will not be easy, but it is the best way. It is already getting late in the day and the more time we spend here the harder it will be. They already know we are coming and are preparing to meet us directly."

"How do you know that?" Ziva asked.

Ventura pointed up towards Rocinha. "Do you hear the dogs barking? Do you see those fireworks in the sky?"

The team turned towards the _favela_ and as Gibbs narrowed his eyes against the quickly darkening sky, he could make out the flashes of bright light that seemed to be erupting in small bursts right over a section of houses.

"Those are the warning signals that the gangs use to alert each other that the police are coming." Ventura explained. "It is a kind of non-verbal call to arms. When we hit them, they will hit us back with everything they have. And the fact that there are now two gangs working together in one _favela_ means that they have _a lot_ with which to hit back. We will have to tackle this issue in a joint two-pronged assault."

"You suggest we split up and hit them on both sides?" Tony asked incredulously. "We don't have enough agents! How do we even know where to go? That damn neighbourhood is massive! There must be _thousands_ of houses on that hill!"

"Tens of thousands actually. Rocinha has a population of about a quarter million. And countless underground tunnels that we have yet to discover. But that is beside the point and irrelevant. We don't need to search, Agent DiNozzo. We already have a good guess as to where the kidnapped officers were taken."

"How do you possibly know that?" Gibbs demanded.

"You see that smoke rising about half a mile directly north of here?" Ventura indicated with his finger. Gibbs once again turned towards the _favela_ and saw that the Brazilian was correct; a thick cloud of dark smoke, visible only because the sunlight had not completely vanished from shining over Rocinha, was steadily rising upwards into the sky. It was a rather ominous sign in Gibbs' mind- something that just screamed out that it was trouble.

"That's where they'll have taken them." Ventura was saying.

"How can you be so sure?" McGee asked curiously, keeping the M-16- unfamiliar in his hands- pointedly steadily at the ground.

"Believe me," Ventura replied grimly, "if there is smoke rising from anywhere in this damn _favela_, it is where they are being held. I only hope that what we find is not what we usually find in this situation."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that particular statement, but decided not to comment on it. Time was wasting, and the longer they stood around talking the less chance they would have at recovering their package alive.

"If you're proposing a two-pronged assault towards the target then we'll have to play this smart." Gibbs said. "My team has enough ammo and training in order to move quickly through urban areas, but we don't have the resources right now to engage in long firefights. And we can't afford to get bogged down with the time we've lost. We have to get to the target as quickly as possible."

"Do not concern yourself." Ventura replied. "My team and I are more than able to engage in prolonged combat. We will act as a distraction and take the brunt of their defences for as long as possible in order to give you and your team the time to reach the house in question. I only hope that it will go as smoothly as possible for you."

"It's never that easy." Gibbs argued. "But what about your team? If you take the full brunt of two armed gangs working together, you're going to get slaughtered."

"We're trained and adept for this kind of combat, Agent Gibbs. And each and every one of these men knows fully well the dangers they face every time they put on their uniform. It's what we're here for. Still, you may be right; I don't expect everyone to make it back at the end of the day. Or… night. But that is not what's important right now. I have five abducted officers in that _favela_, one of which you claim to have need. If we must sacrifice our lives to ensure that that one life is saved, it will be done."

Even though Gibbs disagreed that knowingly sacrificing members of your team for the alleged 'greater good' was a viable option, he understood the captain's willingness to do so. It was something that the ex-marine had himself been willing to do several times over. Hopefully, this time, it wouldn't be necessary.

"Alright, fine. I don't particularly agree with that but we don't have a lot of options here. What's the best way to get to that area under the least possible fire?"

"There is a narrow alleyway that leads right towards that block on the north side. It should take you right up to the street directly across from that section of the _favela_. The house should be right in front of you, give or take a building on either side. I will lead my team up the main streets and keep their attention on us. Hopefully you will not encounter too much resistance once you reach the area. But if you do, be sure to give them _hell._"

Tony looked up into the hills of Rocinha. "You know- this may not be as bad as it looks. I mean, combat in urban areas isn't really new to us. I think this whole thing is being blown out of proportion. I mean, come on- what's the worst thing that could happen?"

**NCIS**

A rocket flew over Tony's head as the team ducked down behind cover. It slammed into the house about ten metres away, sending dust and debris flying in all directions.

"_RPGs?_" Tony shouted from behind his barricade over the hailstorm of bullets that were being fired at the group. "They didn't say anything about RPGs!"

The same thought was on the mind of almost every other member of the team. The squad had allowed Ventura's squad to go first up the main road and draw the attention of the armed gang members. The sounds of battle had indicated that that had been a success and Gibbs had led his team up the hidden alleyway that cut straight up and through the _favela_ and bypassed the firefight. Unfortunately, upon reaching the end of the alleyway in question, they had immediately been seen by a group of at least half a dozen sentries who were guarding the target house. The gunmen had immediately opened fire on them and the team was currently stuck on the other side of the street; Gibbs, Stephanie and Tony were crouched behind a stone barricade on the right side of the alleyway while McGee, Ziva and Nigel took cover behind another one on the left side. Each team member took a turn at returning fire, but it was clear that they were at least outgunned- if not outnumbered.

Gibbs ground his teeth in frustration. Though the house across the street was not more than fifteen or twenty metres away, he couldn't even poke his head around the side of the barricade to try and plan a strategy to reach it; the constant stream of machine gun fire perforating their position made the chances of getting hit by either a bullet or a ricocheting piece of stone dangerously high.

"We can't just stay here until they run out of ammunition!" Stephanie shouted back, even though the senior field agent was right next to her. "We have to find a way to get over there _now_!"

"Yeah, well I'm open to suggestions right now!" Gibbs interjected. "Ziva! Do you see any kind of opening in their defences? Anything at all?"

Ziva's response came mostly in the form of a string of Hebrew obscenities as a chunk of stone was shot off her barricade, missing her head by inches. "I cannot even raise my head long enough to see where all the hostiles are!" She growled. "There is no way we can get across without being cut up instantly!"

"Cut _down_, Ziva." McGee corrected. The former Mossad officer turned towards McGee and was about to snap at the junior field agent about the non-importance of her grammar at the current moment when the MIT graduate popped up for a split second and fired off a burst of machine gun fire from his M-16. There was a brief shout of pain that could be heard over the din and Ziva grabbed hold of McGee's arm and hauled him back down behind cover a split second before the return fire peppered the wall behind him.

"What are you doing, McGee?" She hissed remarkably loudly. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"One hostile down!" McGee said loudly enough for Gibbs and the rest of the team could hear him. "I estimate about five more, boss- all hidden behind cover!"

"Great. So we got five heavily armed and protected gunmen trying to kill us instead of six." Tony grumbled. "What's the plan now?"

"We need a distraction." Gibbs remarked as he pressed himself against the barricade. "We stay pinned down over here, we'll never manage to get across the street in time. If they're focused on something else at the same time, we'll be able to get across and overwhelm them in CQC."

"A distraction?" The rest of the squad turned and looked in the direction of the speaker. Nigel pulled something out of his combat vest- a medium-sized grey container. "You mean something like this?"

"A _smoke grenade_?" Stephanie shouted towards the Australian. "You had a smoke grenade all this time and you didn't _mention it_?"

"Hey, it's not like I was keeping it from you! I just remembered about it now when you were talking about distractions. It's not like we use these every da…"

"Gibbs!" Ziva interrupted, peering around the corner of the barricade. "They are preparing another rocket shot! Directly to the northwest!"

Fortunately the team leader was already thinking on his feet. "Cover fire! Warner- the grenade!" Quick as a flash, both Gibbs and Ziva leaned out of their respect corners and unleashed a volley of bullets at the hostiles, forcing them to duck back behind their own cover. Nigel quickly pulled the pin and tossed it over the barricade; it landed in the middle of the street, bounced twice and then lay still. A second later it exploded, and within moments the entire area was covered with thick grey smoke. The gunfire on the other side abruptly ceased; in its place were several startled shouts and cries of confusion in Portuguese.

"Go!" Gibbs shouted. "Go, go!"

The team needed no further encouragement, and with Gibbs leading the group, they all leapt up from behind their cover and charged across the street, entering the smoke-filled atmosphere to the target house. By the time the smoke was starting to clear, the gang members were taken utterly by surprise as they suddenly found themselves being set upon by a group of gun-wielding foreigners.

Coming up across the first one, Gibbs smashed his rifle butt into the man's face, shattering his nose and instantly knocking him out. As he dropped down to one knee to load a fresh clip into the rifle and survey the area, he could detect something new- the smell of burning rubber perforating from the other side of the house.

Tony came up across another one of the gunmen concealed behind a metal crate lying just outside the building. A quick burst of machine gun fire hit him in the leg, but the crate blocked the shots that would have made it a clean kill. The hammer merely clicked harmlessly and Tony cursed himself for not reloading before charging over. The gunman growled and brought his own weapon up, but before he could pull the trigger the side of the man's head exploded in a red fountain. Tony turned around to see Nigel brandishing his rifle at the spot where the man's body now lay. The Australian gave Tony a quick nod and then turned and hurried towards house. Tony, loading a fresh clip into his weapon, quickly followed.

On the opposite side near the edge of the street, McGee quickly dispatched one of the gang members with a burst of fire from his rifle. Unfortunately, he didn't see the second gunman who was positioned to be right behind him. McGee just barely heard the cocking of a rifle behind him and was knocked heavily to the ground by a rifle butt across the back of his head. As he turned and looked upwards, he knew he would not be able to get out of the way or retaliate quickly enough. For a moment, he felt his heart stop as he stared down the barrel of the AK-47 and was certain that it would never beat again…

Before McGee could blink a single gunshot echoed throughout the immediate area. The gang member went rigid for a moment, completely motionless, and then slowly collapsed to the ground. Standing above him was Stephanie, her SIG pistol in her hand, her face largely expressionless. Reaching down, she hauled McGee up with surprising strength and looked him in the eye, her face about an inch away from his.

"Do not make me watch your back for this entire mission, Agent McGee." She said curtly before hurrying off towards the house.

McGee stood there for a moment longer, trying to catch his breath. He could feel his heartbeat had suddenly increased as the heat of her breath had touched his face and he stood there, frozen in place for a moment before the sounds of gunfire had snapped him out of his trance. He hurried to catch her up.

In the front of the house next to the target one, Ziva could see the gang member holding the RPG take aim with it at the former Israeli. Ziva barely had time to act before the rocket was launched out the tube; she flung herself to the side and felt the heat of the RPG as it zoomed past her. As she came up from her roll, she could hear the sounds of an explosion as the rocket slammed into another building. A split second later she had one of her knives in her hand and had sent it flying towards the target. It hit the gang member directly in the throat, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Ziva took a deep breath, tightened her grip on her weapon and went to join the rest of her team near the front entrance.

As they all carefully took positions on either side, Gibbs took point at the rusty metal door. He was just about to kick it in when an angry shout in Portuguese from around the corner stopped him

"_Merda!_"

The team quickly aimed their weapons at the corner in question as some fast paced steps could be heard approaching their position. Gibbs tensed up as he gripped his rifle, his face unreadable as his jaw clenched in anticipation. A moment later Ventura appeared around the corner flanked by his entire team, and both teams immediately lowered their guns upon recognition.

"Ventura?" Gibbs asked.

"_Vai__ pra puta que pariu!_" The Brazilian growled. "We got here too late for most of the officers!"

Gibbs felt a stab of despair in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"Those sons of bitches like their damn bonfires!" Ventura growled furiously. "They gathered a bunch of tires together and set them on fire, then toss someone they don't like into that bonfire and burn them alive! It's their favourite way to 'dispose' of captured police officers,_ os filhos da puta!_ They roasted four of my officers alive back there! Charred them to a crisp! I cannot even tell who they are any more!"

"Are you sure it's just four?" Gibbs asked. He didn't want to sound as if he was negating the other officers' lives but at the same time if there was still a remote chance that their recruit was still alive…

"As far as I can tell. There is next to no way to confirm identities right now, but I am almost positive that they are all men. That would mean that if Soares is still alive, she is likely being held in here."

A spray of gunfire in the area had everyone whipping around towards the street again. A select few gunmen had taken up position behind the previously occupied barriers and were taking pot shots at the two groups. The BOPE officers quickly ducked behind cover and returned fire.

"Get into the house and find Soares!" Ventura shouted back to Gibbs as he took cover behind an overturned metal crate and fired a few shots at the gang members. "We will keep you covered!"

Gibbs needed no further encouragement. A well placed kick that knocked the door clean off its rusty hinges and the team quickly moved through the doorway into the house.

The outline of the building was extremely simple; a few small rooms with a few pieces of furniture, some clothes scattered on the floor and quite a few spare weapons and illegal drugs along with them. The team moved through them, clearing them almost a soon as they entered them. All were deserted until they came up to the last room, and even before they opened the door, they knew it was the one they were looking for; loud shouts in Portuguese and thumps could be heard from within it. Something was happening in there- and they needed to intervene _immediately_.

Gibbs held up a hand, waited for all but a split second, and then kicked the door in. The team piled through, guns drawn.

The room was only slightly bigger than the others, dimly lit and very dusty. In the back of the room opposite the door were two chairs lined up face to face. The one facing away from the door was unoccupied. In the other one, being flanked on both sides by armed gunmen was a young raven-hair, tanned young woman. She was wearing a black sleeveless tank top and black combat pants and boots identical to those worn by the BOPE officers. Sweat covered her face and her eyes were closed in a somewhat dazed state. _Still alive_, Gibbs thought though as he saw the rise and fall of her chest. That was a welcome relief for the ex-marine, as he had a good idea that this same woman was the one they were looking for.

Upon the team's abrupt entry into the room, the two men both whipped around and stared at the intruders. The one to the woman's right immediately grabbed hold of her and yanked her out of the chair, holding her close to his body and pointing an automatic pistol right up against her temple. The other took aim at the group with an AK-47.

"Who the hell are you?" The one holding the woman shouted.

Gibbs' face remained impassive and his aim remained steady as he spoke, but there was no mistaking the steel in his voice. "I'm the guy who just killed a lot of your men to come here and ask you politely to hand that woman over. This is your only opportunity to do this the easy way; if you're smart, you'll take it."

"I'm not giving you a fucking thing,_ seu bosta!_ You throw down your weapons now, or the little _puta_ cop here gets her pretty little head blown off!"

Gibbs snuck a look out of the corner of his eye and saw that his entire squad was lined up next to him on his side of the room. Stephanie and McGee had both swapped their rifles for their pistols, and Ziva, while still holding her rifle in both hands, was no doubt looking to see if she could get an open shot with a knife if it was necessary.

"Look, whatever issues you have with most of the cops here, that doesn't matter to me. But what does matter is that cop you're holding your gun to. I've already asked you once to let her go and put your weapons down peacefully. There isn't going to be a next time."

"And just what makes this little bitch so special?" The man with the pistol demanded, tightening his grip on the woman. "Why are you so interested in her? Do you even know anything about her? Do you even know who she used to be before she joined the bastards in the police?"

"I really couldn't care less about that." Gibbs replied. "I'm going to ask you once more to release that woman and to drop your weapons. You're outnumbered, outgunned and you're not going anywhere. This is your last chance. After this, I'm not going to be as nice as I am now."

"Really?" The gang leader said tauntingly. "And just what the hell are you going to do to stop us? What the hell would it be over anyway? The way I see it, the more of these cops that get roasted, the better off this city would…"

It happened.

That's the best way that Gibbs could describe the events that took place next. As the man was making his monologue, the woman's eyes had snapped open. In the blink of an eye, she had slipped a hand to her captor's belt and pulled out a rather impressive looking combat knife from his belt; she rammed the blade deep into his thigh. The man yelled out in pain and collapsed to the ground. At the same time, Gibbs fired a single shot into the head of the other gang member, who had been momentarily distracted by the commotion next to him; he dropped like a sack of potatoes, dead before he even hit the ground.

The man with the knife in his thigh tried to bring his pistol up towards the woman, but he was not nearly fast enough; with one quick motion she had stomped on his forearm, snapping it and pinning his weapon to the ground. As the man howled in a new wave of agony swept through him. Crouching down, the woman tore the blade out his leg and leaned over him; her eyes filled with concentrated rage and fire, she yanked his head up off the ground.

"_Faca na Caveira."_ She murmured just loud enough for Gibbs' team to hear. A split second later, she rammed the blade directly into the base of his skull. "_S__eu filho da puta._"

The woman extracted the knife, stood up and turned around, and for the first time seemed to become aware that she was not the only living person in the room. Upon setting her eyes on the team, she immediately raised the knife and her free hand defensively.

Gibbs lowered his weapon and motioned for the rest of his team to do the same. "Maria Alice Soares?"

Her eyes clouded with both focus and suspicion. "Who the hell wants to know?"

Gibbs stared at her impassively. "You sure have a strange way of showing gratitude."

"What? Him?" She motioned to the body of the gang member with Gibbs' bullet in his brain. "That is nothing. He was already dead before you shot him. He just was not aware of it yet. Now," she pointed the bloody knife in his direction again. "Who are you and what the hell do you want?"

"My name is Leroy Jethro Gibbs; I'm a federal agent from Washington, DC and I'm here to take you out of here."

Maria scoffed. "Shit. And here I thought all you _gringos feds _had lost your balls for this kind of work." Her face went hard again. "I'm not going anywhere with you. And why should I believe a damn thing you are saying?"

"Because it's the truth, Soares." A voice from behind the team caught everyone's attention as Ventura stepped through the doorway. Maria's stance immediately became a little more relaxed. "Captain." She said curtly.

"I saw the tire fire outside." Ventura said grimly. "There were several charred bodies in them; I can't tell exactly how many there are. Is anyone from the unit that was taken still alive besides you?"

She shook her head. "No. They shot them all up down near the entrance. Carried them up and tossed them in like peanut shells. I could hear their screaming from in here. They chose to spare me for a little while longer." She cast a deadly look at the corpse by her feet. "They decided that they wanted to have some _fun_ with me- use me like their own little play thing. Well, who's the little play thing now, _seu cuzao_?"

A look of anger and fury passed over Ventura's face. However it disappeared almost as soon as it came. "Soares, what Agent Gibbs has told you is the truth. He is working on behalf of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. We worked out a deal for you to join his team because they claimed they needed only the best- which in this country is you- and once it is over, you will come back to the BOPE."

"We're losing time debating here, Gibbs." Stephanie interjected. "Maybe we should just knock her out and take her with us."

"You just try that, _puta_." Maria said, gesturing threateningly with the knife. "I promise that _you_ will be the one on the ground bleeding out."

"No." Gibbs held up a hand in Stephanie's direction. "We need her on our side; we're not going to attack her."

"A smart move coming from a _gringo fed_." Maria remarked sarcastically. "How surprising."

"However, this isn't up for debate." Gibbs added firmly. "I came here to help and recruit you and I'm offering to be your friend and ally. Trust me- being my enemy wouldn't go well for you."

"I'd listen to Gibbs if I were you." Tony interjected. "People on his list of enemies tend to have short life spans."

Maria re-directed her attention to Gibbs. "You come barging in here guns blazing and then expect me to just drop everything at your call? Do you really think I am that simple minded?"

"You're wounded, in a hostile place and most of your unit's been killed. We can get you out of here, we're _asking_ for you're help, and you're wasting time arguing with us." Gibbs stood back and observed her closely. "So you tell me."

A look that ranged somewhere between pensiveness and anger appeared on Maria's face. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind, and it was clear that it was pissing her off; this was a decision that was not going to go over well no matter what she decided.

"Fine." She said finally, dropping the knife on the ground. "But you had better be telling me the truth about everything." She took a step towards him and pointed a finger at him. "If you want my help and me to join your team, you will be straight with me for _every_ moment."

Gibbs merely gave a curt nod. Even though no words were spoken and it lasted only a second, there was something very powerful about it. Something that confirmed to everyone who saw it that when Gibbs made a guarantee, it would remain in place- no matter what.

Maria looked around at the other individuals still standing in the room. "So what the hell are we all still standing around here for?"

Gibbs turned his head back towards his team. "Move out."

As the team turned and began to file out of the room, Maria walked over to the side and picked up a dark black BOPE jacket up off the floor. As she marched towards the door and swept it back on, McGee just barely avoided tripping over his feet to get out of her way in time. He stumbled into Stephanie, who gave him a somewhat curious look before she pushed him back onto his feet. A faint blush appeared on his face as he quickly moved out of the room.

Gibbs sighed and shook his head as he followed his team out. His hopes of a stable and cooperative team were fading very rapidly.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**BTW- picture Maria as being played by Alice Braga (look her up if you don't know her).**

**P.S- **_**Faca na Caveira**_** means 'Knife in the Skull' in Portuguese- the official motto for the BOPE. I thought it fit nicely in the situation.**

**And once again, a big thank you to WriterKos for her help in determining accuracy and translation. Thanks Kos!**


	18. Seeds of Tension

_**Day 2: **__**CF-21 Thunderbird ('**_**NCIS**_**');**____**Jockey Club- Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro State, Brazil, 18:43 BST**_

In the _NCIS_'s debriefing room, Gibbs stood near the back close to one of the walls with his arms crossed across his chest. His cool blue eyes, as impassionate and emotionless as always, were fixated on the newest recruit into their unique outfit, who stood against the table in the centre of the room.

Maria's expression hadn't changed from the '_I'm both pissed off and frustrated that you actually convinced me to do this, but I don't have a goddamn choice so I'm here_' one she had worn since they had exited the _favela_ over an hour ago. The Brazilian was still wearing her BOPE uniform, which was very similar to the NCIS team's field uniforms; all black and relatively snug fitting, with the sole exception being the knife in skull insignia on her jacket's right upper arm. The holster on her leg was still packing her Taurus pistol, and Gibbs had a very good idea that she had a variety of other weapons stashed in various places on her person. They may not be visible, but his gut was telling them they were there; it was the same feeling he had felt upon first meeting Ziva.

From the entrance, Stephanie walked in and moved directly in their direction. Gibbs watched as Maria's eyes narrowed and followed the Canadian's movements lie that of a predatory cat, never once letting up or easing in intensity. It was clear to the ex-marine that the Brazilian had formed a very negative opinion of the young CSIS officer from the moment she had laid eyes on her, and that any hopes he had that they might be able to work well together were in serious danger of blowing up at any given time. Though they didn't have a clear, official profile of Maria's personality, the snippets he'd caught from Ventura's own descriptions, as well as from what he'd seen personally from the woman herself, made it abundantly clear to Gibbs that the Brazilian was not thrilled to be along for their mission. The team leader just hoped that she would keep her personal opinions out of the job they had to do. The relationship between their growing elite squad was tense enough as it was, and Gibbs had a very strong feeling in his gut that tensions would be elevated even higher with numerous operatives still to be picked up.

Stephanie was walking directly in front of Maria, and as Gibbs was near the back of the room he had a pretty clear view of both women's faces.

"Welcome aboard the _NCIS_, Maria. I'm Stephanie Brewer, Gibbs' second-in-command." Stephanie was saying, turning to face the Brazilian head on. Her voice was authoritative- not overbearing but definitely with an air of firmness. "This team will be operating out of both this aircraft as well as a CSIS facility based in Washington, DC." She folded her hands behind her back and stood up straight. "In both of them, we follow orders."

Maria turned towards the senior agent, her expression still in the 'rather pissed off' range. "Tell the CSIS bitch to get out of my face, Gibbs." She replied in a matching tone. "I'm here because you said you needed me and were going to be straight with me, not to listen to her open her pretty little silver-spoon mouth."

Had Gibbs not quickly shifted his gaze directly towards her, he would have missed seeing the Canadian actually blink in momentary surprise returning to her usual cool business look. "We're going to be making another recruitment stop before heading back to the base in DC." The ex-marine replied. "It's going to be several hours journey and we need to refuel before setting off again. You should find somewhere to prepare for it; I need my team to be a hundred percent, both mentally and physically."

Maria pushed herself off the table and stood up straight, directly in Stephanie's personal space. "You hear that, princess?" She asked, a feral grin spreading across her face. "We're going to be best friends; you, me and my shotgun resting right up against your pale, little china face."

Stephanie merely fixed her with a cool look as the Brazilian began to back away towards the door. "I'm going to find somewhere nice and quiet to hole up until we reach wherever the hell we're going next. Maybe in a spare weapons locker with a lot of guns?" She turned around to face the door. "I don't like being disturbed when I'm concentrating." The door halves slid open, and as she stepped in the doorway she called back, "Make sure to keep the rest of your lackeys out of my way. It'll be healthier for them."

"You look like you were roughed up in that house before we reached you." Gibbs called after her. "You should wait until we get back to DC before going out in the field; get that checked out in the medical bay once we're back there."

Maria turned back and regarded the senior agent pointedly. "You may be leading this little party into hell or whatever crusade you think you're on, but the only one in charge of me is me. If I want to do something that only affects me, I'll do it. So I hope you're a good enough leader to know when to give orders and when to back off."

She turned her attention back to Stephanie. "And by the way, _puta_," she remarked crudely, "you really need to look in a mirror more carefully. I'm sure you spend hours staring at yourself and believing that you are nothing but perfection, but that ice china face expression you have there is really disturbing. You should really get one of male lackeys on this plane to rail you- long and hard." She turned and walked out into the doorway. "God knows you look like you need it."

The clicking of the doors together couldn't quite mask the sound that just barely caught in Stephanie's throat, nor could it mask her momentary look of shock on her face. Gibbs merely stared at her and when she turned around to face him she once again wore her usually frosty expression.

"She seems to be more than skilled in the field; her abilities will no doubt be useful." She said after a few seconds. "However, I have strong reservations about her attitude. She's clearly not one to follow orders from an unfamiliar superior. I doubt very much that she can be trusted in the long run."

"How ironic." Gibbs replied coolly. "That was exactly what my first interpretation of you was."

At Stephanie's equally cool look, he added, "And if you wanna talk about lack of trust, maybe you should start questioning Director Delcourt's judgment a little more. _He's_ the one who picked Soares to be recruited for this mission. Seems maybe you should be thinking outside the CSIS box a little more often."

"CSIS knows what is important and what is vital for the success of a mission, Gibbs." Stephanie replied frostily. "The Director knows what is needed for the success of this mission. I can see his reasoning and understanding, and I damn sure am not going to let this fail."

"Sounds like you still think you're in charge." Gibbs pointed out.

"In addition to be second-in-command of this team," she replied rather testily, "I am the leading CSIS agent assigned to this operation. If your decisions directly contradict CSIS objectives, the director has given me the authority to override your orders."

Gibbs slowly strode over to her so that they were face to face. "And exactly what would be your definition of contradicting CSIS objectives, _Officer_ Brewer?"

Stephanie returned his gaze unblinkingly. "As long as the success of this mission is not impaired, there will be no need for any actions such as that. However, don't think that because the director has appointed you to be the leader of this mission that your word is the ultimate and unquestioned authority here. It may have worked with your team back at NCIS, but here things are different. This is a CSIS-headed operation, which means that CSIS still has a lot of say in what happens in this mission." She matched his stare with one of her own. "I hope for all our sakes that our separate views and methods don't impede the main objective of this operation's success."

"And your own objective?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Is there even a real person in that mind of yours or is it purely dedicated to the wills and desires of CSIS? You can't just have woken up one morning and decided this was what you wanted to think and believe for the rest of your life. Something happened along the way. So what was it that made you decide to be Delcourt's own personal lapdog?"

There was a faint glimmer in her eyes, Gibbs noticed, that was barely visible for more than a second after his question. A glimmer that reflected both hurt and anger. However, it soon disappeared and she stared at him in her business fashion.

"There's much to do before we set out again, Gibbs. If you need me, I'll be at my usual post." Backing away, she abruptly turned away from the team leader and strode out of the room through the doors.

Gibbs continued to stare at the closed doors for a moment before a voice from the speaker in the ceiling broke his thought process. "_Really the motivator, isn't she?_"

"Seems she wants to be, McCrae."

"_I'm guessing you're not going to agree and congratulate me on my well-thought out remark._"

Gibbs had to resist holding back a snort. "If that's the kind of motivation she thinks this team needs, it's a damn good thing she's not the one in charge any more."

"_Gotta cut her some slack, Gibbs. She _is _leader material; take it from someone who's seen enough of them. She just seems to have difficulty relinquishing her position- especially to someone who seems to be as hard-assed as she is._"

"Then she better get up to speed. There's no room for questioning loyalty on this ship. Speaking of which, I really need to have a little chat with our newest addition to the team. What's it looking like out there, McCrae?"

"_We're just in the middle of refuelling right now. BOPE is providing security around the plane, so there's no need to worry about that. We should be ready to go in less than an hour._"

"Alright, keep me posted." Gibbs drew himself up and stifled a groan when his joints and muscles popped slightly from shifting into the new, straighter position. "I'm going to have a talk with Soares. She said she was going somewhere quiet until we landed again. My guess is that she's probably found the spare weapons room near the bottom of the hold."

"_Uh, Gibbs?_" It was Abby's voice who came through the speaker this time, and the lab rat/co-pilot sounded more than just a little nervous. "_Are you sure that's really a good idea? I mean, I know you're a former fearless marine and all, but I happened to see her face when she came aboard and… well, let's just say I don't think she's really in a talking mood._"

"Then I guess I'll just have to convince her to get into one." Gibbs replied. "She may not like or trust anyone here, but if she wants to stay on this plane she'll change her attitude towards authority quickly."

"_Okay. But Gibbs…_"

"I know, Abs." Gibbs interrupted, walking towards the door. "I'll be careful."

_We'd better get some leads on what's going on with the Blood Devils sometime soon,_ the senior agent thought ominously as he stepped out into the hall.

_Otherwise this team might just start trying to kill each other…_

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**


	19. Gibbs' Devils

Though Gibbs was well aware of what he was potentially walking into and had planned to follow Abby's advice of watching himself even if she hadn't warned him of it- old marine training and experience coming into play once more- he was still determined to talk to their latest recruit, if nothing else to get a sense of her mindset and attitude and to determine whether or not she was even capable of following orders and accepting his authority. If she couldn't, then they might have a serious problem to deal with. On the other hand, if she could, then Gibbs would have an especially talented officer under his command. He had seen what she was capable of in mere brief, unarmed combat. In longer, more dangerous scenarios, as he was fully anticipating they would run into soon enough, she would definitely be a force to be reckoned with- if she was willing to follow his orders.

As expected, he found the Brazilian in the spare weapons locker on the lower level of the plane; about the same size as the office of the recently deceased Director Vance back at the Navy Yard, it housed spare weapons and ammunition- ones that were considered backups and not being prepped in the weapon room upstairs. Cool, dimly lit and quiet, it was not generally the place you'd expect someone to spend their time aboard an aircraft in. Of course, that was for normal people, and if there was one thing Gibbs could describe Maria as, apart from hot-tempered, it definitely was _not_ normal.

The BOPE officer was lying on metal weapons crate against a wall across from the sliding doors. She was sitting up with her back against a double-stacked crate, staring at the wall, her hands resting by her sides. She was still wearing her BOPE jacket, and Gibbs suspected it was more out of personal security and safety than out of habit.

She turned towards him as he stepped through the door and stopped relatively close to her, though not crowding her personal space. "I figured you'd be down here pretty soon." She said in a moderate tone- well, more moderate a tone in which he'd yet to hear her talk. "You got that look about you- the one that says 'I'm a leader who takes no shit and when I ask you a question, you'd better answer it right or I'll kick your ass right up out of your mouth'." There was an almost appreciative look in Maria's face as she studied Gibbs'. "I guess that's why you're down here; to make sure I don't go on a ship-wide killing spree. Well, you can relax." She turned back towards the wall. "I figure that since you're down here you want to chat, so I'll pack that thought away for another day. But I'm not much for small talk."

"Then that makes two of us." Gibbs replied. "I may not be much for long conversations but I do like straight answers and to know my team. From what I've heard, even your old boss didn't know you as well as I thought he would. I hope you're willing to be a little bit more forthcoming with me."

Maria turned back towards him. "There's still a lot about me that I'm not even sure about myself, let alone what I allow other people to see." A forlorn and almost reluctant look appeared on the Brazilian's face. "But… thank you for being straight with me about what you believe."

"If it helps you adjust to this team and this system of command," Gibbs said, "then I know I've done the right thing. That's good enough for me."

Maria's expression hardened again. "Do not try to be my friend, Gibbs. This is a simple deal; you need me to kill for you, I need you to uphold your promise to be straight and transfer me back to the _Operações Especias_ when this is over. Let's leave it at that." She turned back towards the wall.

"There's a lot more to this mission than just killing, Soares." Gibbs said firmly, never taking his eyes. "We also use precision and different skills. We need people who can help us in many different areas, not just shooting everything in front of us."

"Maybe." She turned to face him again. "But I'm not one of them. If you wanted someone more versatile, you would have gone looking in the _Federal Police_. But you obviously needed someone who's an expert in killing." She went back to staring at the wall. "So here I am. Besides," she went on, "I already know who is in this outfit so far. I was looking at more than just your old face when you came bursting into that house."

Gibbs said nothing for a moment, merely continuing to watch her. "What do you know about our mission?"

"I know that you're trying to stop a bunch of trigger-happy _filhos da puta_ from doing some really nasty things to a bunch of navy personnel and that you need to recruit a bunch of badasses to stop them. Guess that's why you chose me. Not a half-bad decision if you ask me- which you just did."

"What do you think of it so far?"

"I don't care." Maria replied dismissively. "My goal is to survive it and then cut loose. Get back to where I want to be. Where I need to be. You have a pretty unusual team right now." She continued in a neutral tone. "Most of them probably wouldn't last in the BOPE a single day, but I figure that since most American _feds_ do not live a kill-if-you-want-to-survive-world, you become soft, out of practice- weak."

"If I thought they were weak," Gibbs said a little bit more tersely, "they sure as hell wouldn't be here under my command."

"Whatever. I guess because some of them worked with you before, you must know something I do not. But what the hell. I know what I see and I know what my first impression is. And you know what? Now that I've seen who you're dragging along with you, I figure they may not be a waste of space after all."

"And exactly what does your first impression tell you about the team so far?" Gibbs asked, crossing his arms. He wanted to get Soares talking in specifics about her opinions- it may help to see what was in her mind and what would be the best way for dealing with her should he need to down the road."

"Your favourite boy- Tony, is it? He's got a lot more insecurities than he allows you to see." Maria turned back towards Gibbs. "He covers them up with a stupid grin and bad jokes and tries to charm his way out of all the trouble he obviously gets himself into. Then he uses the same things to get into women's beds because he doesn't want to risk his ass and take a serious look at what he really wants. Your girl Ziva? She puts on a hard front at all times because that's all she has ever known. She doesn't want to appear weak so she acts as though nothing can affect her. She better be careful though." Maria stared up towards the ceiling. "If she's not careful, that whole front will shatter at any moment's notice, and she'll be left, scared and vulnerable, with no way to cope with that."

That was a pretty fair and accurate assessment, Gibbs thought. After all the years working with his team, he could admit to himself that the conclusions he had just heard from the BOPE officer where fairly similar, if not identical, to the ones he had formed long ago in his own mind. Though he would never actually admit it aloud to anyone, he couldn't help but wonder whether or not his team members had more personal issues than he had ever known. He had always believed that they could come to him with any issues they had, but now he was beginning to wonder just how much of what he knew actually made up what was in their minds. But that wasn't the only thing that occurred to him; from the way she described it, Maria sounded like she had lived and experienced similar incidents throughout her life.

"And you have no problem with them?" He asked.

"The way I hear it, they were members of your team before you got thrown into this little shit-storm, so I figure they must be at least somewhat smart about what needs to be done. As long as they don't piss me off, we should be good. Besides, I think they're too preoccupied with each other to get in my way. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if it turned out they wanted to fuck each other's brains out."

Gibbs's eyebrows rose slightly- both at Maria's comment and the casual way in which she said it- but offered no response to this remark. Instead he said, "They weren't the only members of my original team here. And there are other members in my outfit right now that weren't part of NCIS. You must have an opinion on them as well."

"Your agent Timothy McGee is like a cute little puppy dog, eager for attention." She turned to face him again. "He has many skills, but is afraid of using a lot of them because of lack of experience. He'd better get over that real soon, or he'll be dead long before he ever gets to prove he's more than just a tech boy with a gun. I also heard we picked some French scientist guy or something who is busy working in a lab somewhere. I hope he's more useful than just running a bunch of numbers; the way I hear it, shit needs to get done on the frontlines here."

"He's more than just a scientist." Gibbs responded. "He's a former officer with the French external intelligence service. He knows how to handle himself in the field, just like everyone else on this team."

"I hope you are right." Maria responded. "I would hate to have to drag anyone else's dead body back with me if they ever decided to get themselves killed on a mission." She went back to staring at the ceiling. "It might piss me off if I'm under fire."

"Fine. But you still haven't said anything about the other two members of this team- Nigel Warner and Stephanie Brewer." Gibbs pressed. "What are your thoughts on them?"

"Nigel's a guy trying to find out who he is and where he belongs in the world," Maria replied, turning back to Gibbs. "But that's not my problem." Her face hardened noticeably. "Stephanie is a CSIS _bitch_." She turned away towards the wall. "I knew that before she opened her mouth."

"I caught some tension between you two back in the house in Rocinha and again back in the debriefing room." Gibbs remarked. "You two have a history or something? Or your problem with authority in general?"

"It's not about authority." Maria said defensively. She stood up for the first time and started walking towards the back of the room. "It's about CSIS. I never met the elitist _puta_ until today but I've known people like her." She unzipped her jacket and tossed it to the side. "People in Rocinha, people in Rio. And people in CSIS."

"You got a history with them you wanna share?" Gibbs asked.

"They ran some operations in _favelas_ in Rio several years ago. Often without telling anyone. And they never admitted to when they did something wrong, which was almost all of the time. I guess they figured no one would ever go chasing after them for it. But soon… someone will be capable of running them down." She withdrew her pistol from her leg holster, and she moved around in the dim light Gibbs could make out the outlines of a large dark tattoo on her back mostly hidden beneath her sleeveless shirt.

"You're not much for moving on and letting go, are you?" The question sounded more like a statement from the ex-marine.

"This is by my side- every night and every morning." She said, turning the weapon over in her hand. "It's the only thing in my life that hasn't let me down."

"Is that why you close yourself off in a room full of guns?"

"It's dark, it's quiet, and not many people are going to think to search it." Maria replaced the weapon in its holster. "In my experience, that's the only guarantee of safety."

She took a step back towards Gibbs, and in a sudden display of speed and ability leaped up and landed in a crouching position on top of a crate right in front of the team leader. Gibbs blinked out of surprise but didn't move or change his position.

"You know," she said, a small grin appearing on her face, "this aircraft is one hell of a powerhouse. You could use it for a lot of things- like blowing up all those pesky little gang neighbourhoods in America that the politicians won't get off their asses to do something about. You could be revered- talked about as a legend." She raised an eyebrow at him. "And I could help."

Gibbs stared directly into Maria's face. "We have a job to do." He replied firmly and tersely. "Stopping the Blood Devils is our number one priority. We don't have time for gang-hunting."

"When this thing is over," Maria said, "we will either be dead or flying around the world- on _this_ plane."

She turned and jumped down of the crate, facing in the direction of where she was previously sitting.

"Think about it for a moment." She turned back towards him. "Cleaning up all the places normal people are afraid to go. Lots of recognition and money. All the awards and badges you could possibly want." She smirked. "And all the chaos and fighting I could want."

"You're a cop." Gibbs pointed out. "Cops are supposed to preserve lives first and foremost, not take them. When did you find such a fascination in killing?"

Maria shrugged. "I figure that every time someone dies and it isn't me, my chances of surviving another day go up. It is simple."

Gibbs had a very strong feeling in his gut that things were not nearly as simple as Maria made them out to be, but he also knew there wasn't much he could do to force the real story out of her. From what he could put together, the woman clearly hadn't had a very easy life and Gibbs could pretty much guarantee that neither he nor anyone else was going to get anything else out of her unless she wanted them to. And that, he knew, was not going to happen any time in the near future.

"We're refuelling in preparation for our next destination." The ex-marine said after a moment of running these thoughts through his head. "If you're as up to speed as you say you are then you'd better not be collapsing in the middle of the mission. I need to see what my team is capable of doing together in the field. You'd better be prepared for that."

Maria slowly walked back over to the crate she had been lying on and sat down on it, staring off somewhere in front of her. "Yep."

Gibbs figured that was as good as he was going to get as an affirmation that the Brazilian was no longer in the mood for talking and used that moment to walk out of the room.

All things considered, he thought to himself, that luckily hadn't been a waste of time after all. As long he could command with a firm but fair hand, he believed he could keep members of his new team in line, even ones clearly not pleased with the move like Soares. If she followed his command, there would be no problems.

Of course, there was one little hitch to that plan of action.

That was a damn big _if_…

**NCIS**

"Hey," Tony called down to McGee in the crew bunk room on the main level, "tell me something; who do you think would win in a fight: Ziva, Stephanie, or Maria?"

At the mention of the CSIS officer's first name spoken out loud, McGee's head instantly popped up and he twisted it around to look around him, as though expecting the young Canadian to magically appear in a Gibbs-style fashion.

"Relax. She's in her office typing up her progress report to _Der F__ü__hrer_ Delcourt back in Ottawa." Tony reassured the junior field agent.

"Why would you ask something like that?" McGee asked, lying back down on his allotted bunk underneath Tony's.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't thought about it! Look at the situation: we have three gorgeous, ultra-deadly women on this team so far. Each and every one of them could shoot you dead within the blink of an eye or break your neck with a flick of their wrist. But damn, that would be a way to go." Tony grinned to himself, allowing the picture to float through his mind for a moment.

"Anyway, you put these three women in a fight to the death together. Who do you think would come out… _on top_…" Another fantasy drifted through the ex-cop's mind.

"Leave me out of this." McGee said firmly from below. "You think that this ship is so big that none of them will hear about your fantasies and kill you before you can jump off?"

"You worry too much. This ship is tense enough as it is with the Ice Queen and Ms. Latina Heat on board; you gotta loosen up and relax. Personally, I'd go for Ziva."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding me? After five years, you have to ask _why_? Okay, number one: she's a former ultra-deadly Mossad assassin. Number two: she can throw knives as easily as you crack computer codes. Number three: she could kill you with a paperclip. Number four… do I really need to go on?"

"I don't know." McGee replied. "I'm thinking that Ziva might finally have met her match on this one."

"How could you possibly know?"

"Because Steph… Officer Brewer is a very good shot with just about any weapon and is extremely good at surprise unarmed combat, uh… so I've heard. I think she might just be as good as Ziva when it comes to that kind of thing."

"Maybe, maybe not. In any case, I'm still sticking with Ziva. Assassins outweigh former cops. Hey, speaking of which, what do you make of Maria? I get the feeling she's not going to be one of those cops who shouts 'drop the weapon!' at the Blood Devils before she starts shooting."

"She doesn't even need a gun, remember? I think the guy back in that house can testify to that."

"You got that right. You saw the way she broke that guy's wrist after she stabbed him in the thigh and then again the neck? Damn, that's one ruthless babe. Remind me never to get on her bad side."

"If you do, I'm sure we'll find the body parts scattered everywhere over the ship." McGee mused.

The two men lay in silence for a moment. Then Tony chuckled.

"What is it now, Tony?"

"You know, this reminds me of a movie."

"Of course it does." McGee said exasperated. "What _doesn't_ remind you of a movie?"

"Think about it: if they ever manage to cooperate and work together, we'd have three gorgeous ultra-deadly women all working on the same team for the same leader. What does that remind you of?"

"I can't _possibly_ imagine."

"_Charlie's Angels_!" Tony grinned broadly. "2000, Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu. Real classic! And fits right in with our own situation. Let's see, Stephanie can be considered the leader, or at least in her own mind she is, so she could fill in for Natalie. Maria's definitely not as cute as Drew Barrymore but she's attractive in her own rough, exotic way so I guess she could be the replacement for Dylan. And Ziva's the exotic ninja chick, so she's a shoe-in for Alex. You see? Hey, we could even give them their own name. Something like... _Gibbs' Devils_!" He shook his head. "I knew I was a genius."

"Keep thinking that." McGee replied. "If any of those three get wind of what you just said, you think anyone's going to step in and stop them from ripping you to shreds as slowly as possible? I can hear Gibbs now: 'Should have thought of this before you decided to think with something other than your brain, DiNozzo'!"

The nervous silence from above brought a smirk to the junior agent's face.

_And oh, wouldn't that be a sight he'd pay to see._

**NCIS**

_Recruitment of Maria Alice Soares a success. Preliminary examination and analysis confirms subject's strong combat skills and use to the team. Recommend building greater communication and exercises with Brazilian security and intelligence services in order to strengthen Canadian influence in the country and support to Brazilian anti-terrorist groups._

_However, strong anti-CSIS stance taken by Soares may present trouble and encourage similar dissent by NCIS team members. Will be watching closely to see if issues escalate to a level that endangers the mission._

Stephanie had just pressed the _send_ button on her computer screen when the intercom right next to her desk buzzed. "_Officer Brewer, this is Lt.-Col. McCrae. Do you read me?_"

She pressed the receiving button. "Loud and clear, McCrae."

"_Refuelling of the aircraft is complete_. _We can take off in approximately ten minutes. Awaiting destination specifics._"

"Good." Stephanie replied authoritatively. "Prepare the engines for takeoff as soon as we get the all clear. We set off at once for our next destination. Notify Agent Gibbs immediately."

"_Will do. Where are we going?_"

"Cape Town."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**


	20. Dossier of the Freedom Fighter

_**Day 3: CF-21 Thunderbird ('**_**NCIS**_**'); 3 miles south of Scarborough Town, Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa, 06:31 SAST **_

**Name: **_**Dr. Jacob Sisulu**_

**Gender: **_**Male**_

**Date of Birth: **_**Unknown**_

**Place of Birth: **_**Pretoria, Gauteng, South Africa**_

**Nationality: **_**South African**_

**Education: **_**Unknown (presumably high level due to title and extensive knowledge in sciences)**_

**Attributes:**

_**Decades of unconventional warfare and strategic experience**_

_**Rumoured familiarity with Blood Devil technology**_

**Analysis: **_**A brilliant and brutal black South African nationalist who fought against the apartheid system in the 1970s and 1980s, Dr. Sisulu has developed an almost fanatical obsession with advancing the power and prestige of black South Africans both within the country and outside of it, and is believed to have contacted the Blood Devils for help to do so. He is currently operating out of a secret base just south of the conservation village of Scarborough in Cape Town, although the exact nature of his work and his security detail is currently unknown.**_

The entire length of the dossier passed through Gibbs' mind again, the third time to do so in the last fifteen minutes. It was all he had been able to think about for the vast majority of the trip. Even during the few hours of rest and sleep he had caught in the seven and a half hour trip from Rio to Cape Town, he had awoken occasionally, finding himself going over the outline in his mind. He supposed it was out of habit, trying to get a sense of what he was going to have to deal with once he got out and into the field. And also perhaps, in the back of his mind, a small desire that despite all evidence to the contrary, at least one of these new recruits to his team would be somewhat 'stable'. With the cast of characters they had so far collected, it seemed he was practically inviting an explosion of epic proportions to take place on the ship. Hopefully that wouldn't happen any time soon- at least not until their main mission was complete.

The entire field team was assembled at the airlock, suited and geared up to go. Tony and McGee both seemed to be having trouble staying awake if their yawns were anything to go by, likely a combination of the abrupt time zone changes and the not so peaceful flight over. Ziva and Stephanie were both awake and alert and looked fully ready to go. Nigel was doing some last minute fiddling on his pistol. Maria, whom Gibbs was slightly surprised to see had turned up even before the official call, was on the side of the airlock as far away as possible from Stephanie; she was fitting something onto her Benelli M3 shotgun, a BOPE weapon she had snagged from one of her fellow officers before coming aboard.

"_Careful Gibbs."_ McCrae called over the intercom from the cockpit. The pilot had taken command of the second half of the journey to Cape Town in order to allow Abby some time to catch up on sleep. As far as Gibbs knew, the Goth was still snoring away in the bunks below. _"Got two armed sentries approaching the exit from the entrance. Watch yourself."_

"Got it, McCrae." Gibbs replied. "Open the door. Everyone- get ready."

The _NCIS_ had landed on a very narrow stretch of beach that was probably no more than half a mile long just three miles south of Scarborough Town. About twenty yards away from the plane's exit, cut into what appeared to be a large rock formation surrounded by thick forest, was a large steel door, a bit larger than man-sized, divided into two sections in sliding formation. As the door to the exit opened, Gibbs could see two black men armed with machine guns walking towards them. Though their weapons were pointed towards the ground and they were walking in a non-threatening manner, Gibbs placed a hand on the weapon at his side- just in case.

The men stopped a few feet away from the opening. "Special Agent Gibbs?" The one on the right asked directly, his South African accent clearly resonating through his tones.

Gibbs stared at him. "You know who I am?"

"Yes. The doctor said you would be arriving shortly. We have been on the lookout for you for the past twelve hours."

Gibbs turned to Stephanie. "Did CSIS let Sisulu know we were coming?"

"No." The Canadian replied. "We didn't want to risk him fearing being compromised and leaving before we managed to arrive here. This was meant to be a surprise drop."

"Not so much of a surprise now, is it?" Gibbs turned back to the guards. "How'd the doctor know we were on our way to talk to him?"

"We don't know." The other guard responded. "He didn't tell us any specific details. Only that we were to allow you passage directly to him upon your arrival. And that under no circumstances were we to allow Van der Merwe to have any contact with you prior to speaking with the doctor."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "Van der Merwe? Who the hell's that?"

The guards hesitated and Gibbs' hawk eyes noticed immediately a source of discomfort among the two men. No, actually it went further than just mere discomfort. What the guards were displaying, however much an attempt to hide it, was definitely a sense of fear.

"If you wish to know, perhaps you should ask the doctor when you meet him." The one on the right said after a moment's silence. "It is probably better that way."

"Why would it be better than just telling me right here and now?" Gibbs demanded, his patience starting to grow thin.

"Believe me- it just is. However that is irrelevant. What matters is that you should go and meet with the doctor. He is on the other side of the compound, directly along the path passed the doors."

Gibbs was not nearly satisfied with the guards' answers as to what exactly was going on but he decided to shelve those for the time being. Right now the priority was recruiting Dr. Sisulu for their mission and they couldn't afford to stand around talking while the Blood Devils were still lurking around somewhere, probably planning to abduct more naval bases. The less time they wasted, the better.

Gibbs turned towards his squad. "You heard the man. Move out."

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs." The guard on the left raised a hand to stop the team leader. "Dr. Sisulu has allowed you to meet with him, but he was also very clear about the security needs for this facility. You may only take two members of your team with you inside the base."

Gibbs stared at the man. "The last time I checked, _I_ was in charge of my team, not the doctor. Whoever comes and remains behind is my business since I'm in command of them. You tell your doctor boss that my team goes wherever I want them to go."

"I understand your feelings Agent Gibbs, but I am afraid this is non-negotiable. Dr. Sisulu is most anxious to meet with you, but the nature of his work requires that the number of outsiders permitted into the base be restricted. If you wish to meet with him, you must abide by his wishes. Two of your team members will be allowed to accompany you; the rest must remain here until you return."

Gibbs clenched his fists. He did not like being told who he could and couldn't take along with him in the field and was on the brink of making this clear to the men in a not-so polite way when Ziva intervened. "It might be prudent to follow his advice, Gibbs." The former Israeli pointed out to him. "If there are agents available to defend the ship should the need arise, it would put less strain on the pilots to maintain a vigilant lookout. They will need that strength to travel to our other destinations. It would be easier for them to do without having to look everywhere all the time."

Gibbs paused, considering Ziva's argument. She was right, he decided. The more eyes watching the non-active personnel the better. Abby was already exhausted and Gibbs was sure that McCrae, despite all attempts the man made to show the contrary, was tired as well. They would need someone to watch their back and make sure they didn't overstress themselves right at a moment where they might be needed. And besides, he thought, a smaller group would be better at moving quickly through a facility such as this should they need to make a quick exit.

"Alright, fine." Gibbs acknowledged. Now all that remained was to select which two members of his team to come along with him. His eyes passed over the entire group, his brain working and formulating who would suit the mission best according to their skills.

Finally he made his decision. "Warner, Soares- you're coming with me."

Nigel immediately nodded and stepped up beside the ex-marine. "You got it, Gibbs."

Maria pumped her shotgun and slung it over her shoulder. "Smart move." She remarked as she took her place on Gibbs' other side. "Perhaps you might be one of these rare competent _gringo_ _feds_ after all."

Though Gibbs didn't respond to that remark, inside his mind was working based on logic and strategy. At some point during the mission to stop the Blood Devils, he knew he was going to have to hold command over a large group of individuals, most of whom would not be NCIS. He was going to have to work early on to determine the strengths and weaknesses of his new team members and determine how each one would work best under which circumstance; it would be crucial if this operation was to succeed. It was therefore necessary to observe how his team interacted with each other in the field. He certainly hoped it would be better than they did while not in combat, and that was partly the reasoning behind his selection of squad mates. Maria certainly was skilled in combat but was clearly not much of a team player; it would be best to test her capacity to follow orders and work alongside someone she was unlikely to get pissed off at, like Nigel. Not only was the Australian a hell of a soldier but Maria had a relatively neutral opinion of him, which for now was probably the best Gibbs was going to get. It was likely going to be a long time before the Brazilian even began to trust anyone on the team, and the field was not the best place to challenge her temper. Certainly not with someone like Stephanie- not for a _long_ time at any rate.

"DiNozzo, you're in charge until we get back. Set up a defensive line around the plane in case it's needed until our return."

Tony nodded, apparently fully awake now. "Got it, boss."

"Good." Gibbs turned towards Stephanie. "I hope there won't be any issues following the assigned ranks of authority I place aboard."

Although she looked like she strongly wanted to, Stephanie did not object to this. Instead she said testily, "You should get going. The more time we waste, the less chance this will go off as planned."

Gibbs surveyed the group as a whole. "Then what the hell are we waiting for? Move out."

There were no voices of dissent or argument as Gibbs led the group outside the aircraft. Nigel and Maria took their places beside the team leader, brandishing their weapons. The rest of the squad began to take up position around the _NCIS_ at various points. As he began to walk away, Gibbs could hear Tony arguing with Ziva about the best person to be on guard near the entrance in case an unsuspecting attack was to come from that direction.

The doctor will be waiting for you in his own private lab. It is directly along the path in front of you." One of the guards informed Gibbs.

"I hope he's in as much of a talking mood as you say he is." The ex-marine replied. "I'd hate for this to turn into a bloodbath just because of a misunderstanding on your part."

"There is no misunderstanding. You will find everything you are looking for." The guard affirmed.

They reached the sliding doors cut into the rock formation. One of the guards reached over and pressed a sequence of buttons on the control panel next to it. There was a hiss of air and the tow sliding parts separated and retracted into the rock, revealing a brightly it path that led directly forward before slowly descending underground.

"Dr. Sisulu is waiting for you just ahead." The guard who had not opened the door repeated to Gibbs.

The team leader nodded in acknowledgement, and then turned towards his two squad members, motioning with his head to get moving. As the trio stepped through the door, the sliding doors slid back into place, cutting them off from the outside world.

The interior of the path was not overly wide or high, large enough perhaps for a group of about half a dozen people to walk in group together, but was completely lit up by an artificial lighting system ingrained into the upper parts of the rock walls that lined the either side of the bath. The ceiling itself was not rock, but made of a thick shiny steel off of which the light reflected. The dirt path led downwards at a slow but steady angle, free of any sharp drop-offs.

"The guards didn't say if Sisulu is interested in cooperating or if this is just an elaborate set-up for an ambush." Gibbs remarked as he drew his pistol. "Assume hostiles present until proven otherwise."

Nigel and Maria both cocked their weapons. The former seemed to be on the verge of saying something likely to the affirmative but was cut off by the sound of what seemed to be a loudspeaker somewhere in the distance ahead of them. Though the voice was partially muffled, it could still be clearly understood, and an authoritative female South African tone penetrated the silence. _"There is only one measure of success: kill or be killed! Survive or be crushed underfoot!"_

Nigel raised an eyebrow. "Barking orders over a loudspeaker? How unbelievably polite for a lady."

"Shit, clearly you haven't met a real woman who actually commands respect in the field, Warner." Maria scoffed back.

"Stay focused, both of you." Gibbs ordered. "We're looking for a former anti-apartheid fighter. Anyone else can wait until we've reached him. Get moving."

Without another word, weapons drawn, the three stared the descent downwards. The path never dropped or altered the angle on the way down so the trio could see that there were no surprises up ahead. Though the air seemed to grow slightly thicker as they descended, it was not to the point of distraction or danger. Up ahead, maybe fifty yards away, Gibbs could see another sliding door. Presumably this one led to Sisulu's lab- and to Sisulu himself.

About halfway through the tunnel, the loudspeaker came to life again, this time clearer. _"Being hired is merely a small beginning! You must __**earn**__ your right to be in the mighty army we are building!"_

"This doctor-fighter guy's building an army with a woman as a high commander?" Maria remarked dryly. "Nice. Perhaps we can recruit them all and save ourselves the trouble later on of having to fly all over the world searching for people to tag along."

Gibbs did not respond to this remark, instead continuing to press forward. His strides steadily increased in speed, leading him closer and closer to his destination. Nigel and Maria subsequently quickened their own paces in order to keep up with him.

In just a few short paces he had reached the other set of sliding doors. On one side of them was a panel with a single red button. A thin rectangular light just above it shone a bright green, indicating, presumably, that the door was unlocked and ready for entry.

Nigel and Maria both readied their weapons and nodded at Gibbs. The team leader drew in a breath, tightened his grip on his pistol and pushed the button. There was a hiss of air and a grinding of metal as the doors came to life and separated, permitting access to the room beyond.

A deep, toned voice floated out from just inside. "There you are. I observed your arrival. You have arrived just in time."

Passing through the doors, Gibbs could see that the room in question was relatively large, about as big as the garage had been back at the Naval Yard. Unlike the path that led to the room, this was made entirely of steel in the ceiling, the ground and most of the walls. On the other side of the room was another sliding door, also indicating that it was unlocked. Lining up the left side of the room were large glass tanks, larger than man-sized, though all of them were empty. Various pieces of equipment were dispersed between the tanks. The right wall was almost completely occupied by a large oval viewing window overlooking some kind of large space a level below the lab. On the far side of the window closest to the entrance, staring out of it was a squarely built black man with short hair peppered with specks of grey and dressed in a dark sweater and pants.

Gibbs lowered his weapon, though not holstering it, and motioned for the other members of his squad to do the same. As Gibbs slowly approached him, the man began speaking again.

"It's about time." He turned his head to face the group, and Gibbs could see that by the wrinkles on his face that the man was well into middle age, yet spoke with strength that was far younger than him. "The life systems on these tanks will not wait while you listen to that self-absorbed mercenary."

As he turned back to the viewing window, Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Jacob Sisulu, right? I heard you were eager to talk to us, but you don't seem very interested- or happy that I'm here."

"You may claim to be here to help," Sisulu replied, turning his body around to face the team, "but the recently returned Leroy Jethro Gibbs is hardly a sign of peaceful and gentle change."

When Gibbs said nothing, the doctor continued. "Surprised? All of Africa ought to know you. I'm sure the memories of Somalia from last year are still fresh in your mind."

"And I'm sure you're eager to retell a story that almost no one outside NCIS knows about." Gibbs replied coolly.

"Such a tale!" Sisulu began walking forward, raising his arm to accentuate the phrase. "Salim, the extremist Sudanese terrorist both known and feared all over the continent, threatens the life of Israeli Mossad officer Ziva David, recently departed from NCIS after a breach of trust by her old boss, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Gibbs merely started at him impassively.

"But," Sisulu began walking back towards the window, "before Salim can deliver on his threat to take her life, along comes Gibbs- securing victory through a sniper round directly through the terrorist's skull!" He nodded approvingly. "I like that part. It delivers _force_."

"If you're looking for me to make apologies, you're not going to get any." Gibbs replied firmly. "The lives of my team members were in danger. I did what I had to do to bring them home safely."

Sisulu raised his hands slightly upward. "But I approve. Salim was a plague for the entire continent and not a true African." He approached Gibbs and stopped right in front of him. "Ancestry and nationality mean nothing. It was the mistake of an arrogant opportunist, one that this mercenary here has also made."

"Mercenary?" Gibbs questioned. "You mean that woman on the loudspeaker as we came in."

"Van der Merwe, yes. A native white South African who is stuck in the past days of mercenaries and apartheid. She desires a perfect private army of her own, to squeeze the life force out the continent's poorest people for her own benefit. She found out about my work on genetic perfection and creation and demanded that I include her on any progress I made. In exchange, she would leave the poor of South Africa alone."

"Creation?" It was Nigel who spoke and his next words reflected both disbelief and shock. "Hold on a bloody second; are you trying to say you're… _growing_ human beings in these…" He waved his hand around the room. "These _tanks?_"

"It was the most effective way." Sisulu responded sagely. "And it was the only way I could tell whether or not perfection had been reached. There were so many rejects- so many disappointments. But they would not go to waste."

He turned away and walked a few steps towards the viewing window. "I gave that mercenary my rejects for her army." He said, spreading his arms. "But she's growing impatient and frustrated, and refuses to accept that her reality will never be realized. It's time for you to take me out of here."

Staring over Sisulu's shoulder, Gibbs looked through the viewing glass into the large empty space and realized that it was a large holding area made of solid steel about the size of a football field. Giant pillars lined the middle while the same florescent lights that lined the tunnel lit up the area. Lining the walls of the area on either side were more tanks similar to the ones in the lab, except that in these ones Gibbs could see that these ones were not unoccupied; each one contained what appeared to be a human being, all of the same dark skin colour- the 'rejects', as Sisulu had called them. Gibbs clenched his jaw. _What did they do to be dismissed off hand and rejected?_

Behind him, Maria was speaking. "We're here about the Blood Devils, _doutor_." The Brazilian said. "We could not care less about whatever other shit you have in your life right now."

"I see." Sisulu responded thoughtfully, turning back towards the group. "Yes- Blood Devil attacks _have_ increased recently. A global concern, but also a naval one. My attention and concerns were focused elsewhere."

He turned in the direction that the team had come in and as Gibbs followed him with his eyes he realized that he had completely missed noticing something during the entire time they had been talking. About halfway between the viewing window and the entrance to the lab was another large glass tank, this one slightly larger than the others in the room. However the main difference was that this one was not unoccupied; through the glass, Gibbs could see clearly the figure of a massive bald-headed black man dressed in a snug-fitting desert-coloured combat uniform floating freely in some kind of clear liquid. And by massive, he meant _massive_; the man had to be at least six foot seven or six foot eight and was likely over three hundred fifty pounds. The strategic bulging areas underneath the uniform indicated that vast majority of his body was pure bulk and muscle. Though the man's appearance made it seem like he could be anywhere from twenty-five to forty years old, in reality Gibbs suspected that he had only been 'grown' less than a week ago- even though the ex-marine had never imagined anything like that had been possible up until now. The man's eyes were open and he was staring straight ahead, but there was absolutely no movement on his part and nothing to indicate he was aware of what was going on outside the tank.

As Gibbs, Maria and Nigel observed the tank and its occupant, Sisulu was taking a few steps towards it, speaking as he went. "I acquired the knowledge necessary to create one pure soldier. With it, I will inflict upon the opponents of African self-determination the greatest injury they can possibly suffer." He turned back to the group. "To be _ignored_."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Your work towards creating the alleged 'perfect soldier' obviously created a lot of failures." He motioned towards the direction of the holding area below the viewing window. "You don't care about _them_?"

"I failed no one." Sisulu shook his head. "My rejects are exactly what Van der Merwe asked for. They are strong, healthy, and completely useless to me. She merely lacks the ability to command properly. I require perfection; if a few thousand are rejected, so be it. My work will purify and reinvigorate the South African people. We will not be improved; we will be- _renewed_."

"I would have thought the logical solution would have been to create as many special soldiers as possible." Gibbs remarked. "Why throw away so many good soldiers for the sake of one?"

"We don't need numbers." Sisulu responded. "We need quality. My soldier is a template; it is greater threat to its opponents than all of its inferior siblings that would have been by its side. Throw a thousand inept warriors at the enemy line and you'll return with a thousand body bags. Throw a single perfect soldier at them and your warrior will be dragging a thousand enemy bodies through its own gates. There is no alternative."

"So that's your ideal world, is it?" Gibbs asked tersely, his stare boring into the South African. "You're just as cruel and manipulative as the people who kept your people under the apartheid system."

"Perhaps." Sisulu conceded. "But I will advance the South African people and state, and my soldier will not provoke a harsh response based out of fear, such as a holocaust or a cold war." He indicated towards the tank. "My legacy is one of perfection, with each South African growing stronger by climbing on top of the old and the dead. They will exceed, but the will not forget the struggles of those who came before them."

"But how do the Blood Devils figure into all this?" Gibbs asked. "What did you get from them? I need _all_ the information you have."

"They are very strange." The South African responded. "So mysterious, so isolated, yet so available when your sacrifice is big enough. I gave them many of my rejects." He nodded towards the tank. "I may have information about them for you, but the technology I received from them was consumed in my prototype- after I determined how to use it without killing the test subjects. Their deaths were very unfortunate, but I only needed one success to begin the process."

"So you're not looking to use the knowledge you have to become one of these rich, powerful, all-mighty African leaders?" Maria asked unexpectedly.

"Contrary to what many of them believe," Sisulu responded, "the power wielded by these so-called leaders is not nearly as great as they think it to be. The only people they can fully convince of their own position of power are themselves every time they look in a mirror. For every day they remain in power, hundreds die due to their corruption or ineptness. Every survivor of their regimes is due to fear or luck. They cause more damage to their countries than the power-hungry Western corporations who exploit them for their own ends!"

Gibbs watched the doctor, his face unreadable.

"I say, let us take control of our own destiny." Sisulu said firmly. "Show that we are more than just the legacy of Western colonialism. We adapt and grow stronger by climbing on top our dead predecessors- _that_ is the African way."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. He remained silent for a moment, turning everything over in his mind. The whole process of what the doctor had done was definitely not acceptable in his mind; creating human life and then just tossing it away when he saw they didn't have what he was looking for. It was not something he could ever condone in his mind. But at the same time, it did provide them with an advantage; a look into the Blood Devils and their technology. Anything that gave them an edge had to be used, regardless of where it came from.

"Your methods are extreme and your actions are inexcusable." He said finally. "But you know how to take down a threat. Will you help us?"

"Perhaps I can strike a deal to secure passage." Sisulu replied thoughtfully. "But my prototype is not negotiable. It is the key and the sole success of my legacy."

Whatever was going to be said next by whoever would never be known, for at that moment the loudspeaker in the holding area below crackled to life and the female voice that they had heard before, to whom they now knew belonged to the mercenary Van der Merwe, echoed in the background- muffled but still very audible.

"_Attention! We have intruders in base! With Sisulu, of course._"

Gibbs walked over to the window and looked out into the holding area. Standing on the right side of the room at the far end was a woman in her thirties wearing a beige combat outfit and with short blonde hair. In one hand she carried what looked to be a sniper rifle and she appeared to be speaking into a Bluetooth in her ear.

"_We're starting over from scratch! Gas these tanks and start again from Sisulu's data. Kill the rejects and then the intruders!_"

There was a momentary pause as the whole group stared out the window, watching to see what would happen. Then there was a popping sound on the other side of the room, like a screw bursting out of a sheet of metal, followed by a hiss. Turning around, they observed a stream of a clear gaseous substance flow out from above one of the empty tanks. There was another pop and another stream of gas appeared above another tank. They watched as tank after tank was subjected to the same process. Finally, there attention was directed as there was a pop followed by a hiss on the tank containing the super soldier right beside them.

Sisulu strode up the window. "She is _that_ weak-willed? She'll destroy my legacy with a damn _switch_!" He turned back towards the group. "Gibbs- you want information on the Blood Devils? Stop Van der Merwe!" He gestured with his hand. "She'll try to access the fail-safe contamination controls for the lab in the storage hold!"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "So now you have information on the Blood Devils you want to share with us? You got no cards left to play here, Sisulu; I want some straight answers- now."

"I understand your need." The doctor responded as he turned towards a computer built into the wall next to super soldier. He turned his head towards the group. "But you'll have absolutely nothing if she poisons us all to death. The storage hold is past the door on the other side of the lab and down the stairs. Kill her." He turned back to the computer. "I will… stay, and do what must be done."

"Looks like we don't have much choice." Nigel interjected. "If we want to be alive long enough to kick the Blood Devils arses from here to hell and back, we'd better get down there and stop that merc."

"Too bad." Maria said, brandishing her shotgun. "She and I probably would have gotten along really well."

Gibbs took out his pistol. "We need the information on the Blood Devils, and right now that means stopping her. Move out- now!"

The trio quickly hurried over to the door on the opposite side of the room. Nigel and Maria both took point on either side, and Gibbs took up position next to the Brazilian. The light on the lock was still bright green, signalling that the door was ready for entry.

With a tight grip on his pistol, Gibbs pressed the red button. The door separated with a whoosh of air. Gibbs passed through the entrance and started down the stairs, an alert Nigel and Maria directly on his six.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review!**

**Radafa: I'm glad you're enjoying this series so much! Where are you from? If you're not a member, you should sign up and subscribe to this story so you can get alerts when it's updated. Thanks so much for the in-depth reviews! Keep them up!**


	21. Gage of Perfection

Gibbs knew as he thundered down the steel steps that the second he passed through the sliding doors, the trio would immediately come under fire. It was his marine training in him, but also his time as a sniper; having been one made it easier to predict when a shot would be coming, even though it was still rather difficult. This is why as the doors leading to the storage hold slid open, the team leader immediately shouted out warnings to his team members.

"Both of you- heads down!" He bellowed.

Immediately the three of them flung themselves to the floor just a loud _crack_ echoed throughout the metal room followed by the _ping_ of the bullet against the wall behind them. There was a large metal barricade just a few feet away in front of them separating their side of the room from the large, lower middle. They ducked behind it.

"Figures!" Van der Merwe's voice called from just across the hold. "Can't rely on anyone these days! If you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself!"

Gripping his handgun and using extreme caution, Gibbs peered over the top of the barricade in the direction of where the merc's voice had come from. The other side of the room was about fifteen, maybe twenty yards away with an identical steel barricade on the edge of the hollowed out middle. The flash of movement at one of the corners was the first clue to the ex-marine that danger was suddenly very close at hand; he spotted the red targeting laser pass right across his forehead and was just able to snap back down behind cover before another gunshot ricocheted off the barricade where his head had been a split second earlier. Gibbs felt the hot metal pass right by his skin and cursed silently; the woman was clearly an expert sniper and there was absolutely no way they were going to be able to get a clear shot off or make their across the room without having their brains blown out.

The earpiece in Gibbs ear crackled to life. "_Boss!_" It was Tony shouting at what Gibbs could swear was the top of his lungs. Gunfire could be heard echoing in the background and a new and small but still significant stab of worry penetrated Gibbs' heart. "_Boss, do you copy?_"

Gibbs put his hand to his ear. "DiNozzo! What's going on over there? You okay?"

"_We're under fire from a group of sentries!_" The senior field agent shouted back. "_The guards that were waiting for us too! They just stormed up to the surface a minute ago and started opening fire on us! Gotta be at least half a dozen! We're pinned down around the ship, taking heavy fire, but I think we got this under control! McGee, watch the heavy on the rear right flank!_"'

"_Two hostiles at least on the west side!_" It was Ziva's voice that shouted this time. "_They will overrun that side of the plane if they get in close!_"

"_Let's take them out!_" Stephanie barked out in response. "_You draw their attention with distraction fire, I'll gun them down!_" A series of shots succeeded this transmission.

"_Boss, I don't know what the hell you did down there, but it sure pissed these guys off big time!_" Tony called. "_Did Sisulu decide he didn't want to come after all?_"

"It's a little complicated, DiNozzo." Gibbs growled back. "You'll have time to listen to the whole story later- after we deal with some unwanted company. Can you handle things up there?"

"_Copy. We should be alright. Just do whatever you gotta do down there! We'll take care of the rest!_"

"_Tony! Sentry on your right, at ten yards!_" McGee's voice was the last thing to come through Gibbs' earpiece before the ex-cop closed the link.

On the team leader's left, Nigel popped up for a split second and managed to squeeze off one or two rounds from his pistol in the general direction of Van der Merwe before he suddenly ducked back down behind cover; another sniper round whizzed through the area where the Australian's head had been a millisecond earlier and hit the wall behind them.

Gibbs fixated him with a look. "You're not going to be able to take her down if you take blind shots at her from this distance with that kind of gun!"

"Well, we have to try something!" Nigel responded. "We can't just sit here waiting for her to run out of ammo! We need to take a proactive stance here!"

"Speak for yourself, Warner!" Maria growled from the ex-marine's other side. "I'm not rushing in until I'm sure I can put my shotgun right against her head and pull the trigger! You want to act as my distraction, that's your choice- and funeral."

"Enough!" Gibbs barked. Inside, the team leader was frantically improvising, trying to come up with a plan. Why the hell hadn't he bothered to pick up a sniper rifle from the plane's armoury before he came out here? _Supposed to be a simple pickup mission- talk the doctor into coming along with us, no strings attached. _Gibbs decided that things couldn't possibly get any worse on this mission.

Things got worse.

"So that's how you want to play it?" Van der Merwe shouted from across the room. "That's fine; two can play at that game. Let's see how you like _this_!"

There was a slight pause, then a loud clicking sound on the other side of the hold. Gibbs brows furrowed in anticipation, wondering what the mercenary was doing over there.

Then a couple of loud hisses focused the ex-marine's attention on three of the tanks lining the wall of the entrance to the hold right in front of them. The momentary burst of steam above each of them immediately put Gibbs on alert.

The tanks slid open, each releasing a single South African man wearing a desert-coloured outfit. Three 'rejects', Gibbs realized; soldiers that Sisulu had created in his search for the perfect South African soldier and had given to Van der Merwe for her private mercenary army after realizing they were not up to the standards that he had wanted. The good news for Gibbs and his team was that all of these men were average-sized, nowhere near as large or powerful as the one back in the doctor's lab.

The bad news was that all three of the rejects were armed with AK-47s.

"Watch out!" Nigel shouted. The ASIS agent immediately raised his pistol and fired off a couple of shots towards the nearest tank-grown soldier; the man stumbled back as each bullet tore through his chest- thankfully none of them seemed to be wearing any body armour- and collapsed to the ground.

"Nice!" Maria shouted, a feral grin spreading across her face. "_This_ is how I like it- up close and personal!"

"Go ahead! Kill them!" Van der Merwe's voice penetrated the din. "I'll just create new ones! There's always more!"

"Watch the others!" Gibbs bellowed. The ex-marine flung himself to the ground just as one of the other rejects opened fire with his AK-47, the bullets zooming past just above his face. He crashed to the ground, firing off round after round from his pistol at his attacker. Several of them struck the man in the upper body region but unfortunately the team leader hadn't had time to aim properly and as a result none of the bullets hit anywhere in the kill zone. The reject stumbled back a bit and then brought his weapon back up towards Gibbs. Gibbs pulled the trigger but the pistol had run out bullets. He cast a quick look towards Nigel and saw that Australian was frantically loading a fresh clip into his own weapon.

As Gibbs' hand automatically went for his backup weapon at his ankle, even though knowing he would never be able to reach it in time, his attention was suddenly caught by a figure in black racing past him in the direction of the nearest reject. Seeing the outline of the shotgun in its hand, it took only a brief second for him to realize that the figure was none other than Maria.

"Soares!" Gibbs shouted as the Brazilian charged out from behind cover directly towards the armed reject. "What the hell are you doing? Don't break cover!"

However, whether the BOPE officer had heard him or not was unknown, as she was down racing towards the tank-grown soldier, shotgun in hand. The reject, apparently startled for a brief moment, quickly turned his attention towards her and swung his machine gun directly towards her chest…

At the last possible second, Maria ducked down and launched herself onto her back, sliding across the floor right past the reject. There a tremendous _crack_ and all of sudden the reject's head, where Maria's had been a second earlier, exploded in a red mist. There was a shouted expression from across the room that Gibbs suspected was none other than a vicious obscenity in Afrikaans and the ex-marine realized that a sniper round that had been meant for the Brazilian had ended up striking the reject by accident.

However, Maria wasn't finished. The other reject had been standing right behind his now dead sibling and as she slid on her back towards him, her shoulder knocked into his legs, causing him to stumble forward towards her. In a flash, she had lifted her shotgun up and his sternum fell against it.

There was a pause, just for a brief second, and the reject's eyes widened. Anyone who could see Maria's face right at that very moment would have seen an expression of concentrated fury. Her lips curved into a feral snarl before parting to speak.

"Go fly, _bitch_."

Her finger slammed back on the trigger.

There was a massive _blam_ and the reject was actually lifted up off his feet and flew backwards several metres, a massive gaping hole in his chest. When he crashed back to the ground a few seconds later, there could be no doubt that he was dead, done and neutralized. Maria got up into a crouched position, staring at the dead reject with a sense of satisfaction.

As amazing as the display had been, Gibbs automatically found himself turning back in the direction of where Van der Merwe had last been seen. The blonde mercenary was already rising up from her place of cover, her sniper rifle loaded and ready coming up to her shoulder, a furious expression on her face. Following the direction she was preparing to aim in, Gibbs found the red spotting laser come up towards the still-exposed Maria. Gibbs immediately knew that the Brazilian was totally exposed and would not be able to make it back into cover in time. Already the laser was passing over her chest, which even though was guarded by a Kevlar vest underneath the jacket was not completely impenetrable- not a sniper round in the right place anyway.

"_Van der Merwe!_"

The words were out of Gibbs' mouth before he was even aware of them. In that moment, the entire area seemed to stand still- no noise, no movement except himself- and yet he was unaware of it.

He was also unaware of his body reacting purely on instinct- especially when a teammate was in danger. Already he felt himself slamming a spare clip into his weapon and ducking down in a kneeling position behind the barricade. He saw himself align his pistol with the mercenary's head and as he pulled back on the trigger- felt the recoil in his hand and the heat on his face- he could see Van der Merwe take her eyes off of Maria and stare directly at him. He stared right back, his blue eyes boring into hers with a frighteningly high intensity- never ceasing, never yielding.

Her head exploded in a fountain of red mist, snapping backwards, her eyes glazed over staring off far into the distance. The blood showered the barricade in front of her, and as her body dropped out of sight, still staring off into space, her finger pressed against the trigger. The sniper rifle, already pointing well away from its original intended target, fired a single shot ineffectively into the steel ceiling. There was an echo of metal versus metal, and then as it died away a long silence.

Gibbs remained in his crouched position, slowly lowering his gun to the side but keeping his gaze in the same spot unblinkingly. After a few seconds of silence, his stance was broken by Maria's voice.

"Shit, they said you were a deadly sniper. I assumed they meant with a sniper rifle."

Gibbs turned towards the Brazilian, who was shouldering her shotgun with a mildly impressed look on her face. Just behind her, Nigel came up, gun still in hand.

Gibbs stood up and approached her. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" He growled.

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You have a very strange way of showing gratitude." She mocked.

"That was completely irresponsible! You almost got yourself killed! A dead member of my team isn't gonna do a whole lot out in the field!"

"Hey, do not get in my face about it!" She snapped. "I saved your _gringo_ ass that was about to be blown to hell and back; that guy happened to be in my way, so don't make a deal out of it. I figured if you die, the CSIS bitch will assume command and start trying to tell me what to do. If that happens, I might end up killing her more quickly than I want to."

Gibbs opened his mouth to launch a scathing retort against the BOPE officer when his earpiece crackled. "_Gibbs! Gibbs!_" Abby's panicked voice came through. "_Don't you tell me to calm down, McCrae; we haven't heard anything from them in a while! For all we know, they could be dead! Gibbs, Gibbs! Please tell me you're not dead!_"

"I'm here, Abby." The senior agent responded. "Alive and without a scratch."

"_Oh thank God! You had me scared to death, Gibbs! Why didn't you answer me the first time I called?_"

"Couldn't get a word in." Gibbs responded, suppressing a small smile. However, he immediately turned serious again. "What's going on up there, Abs? Everyone alright?"

"_Everyone's fine here. All the gun-wielding bad guys are dead as dead can be. Tony took a round in the chest, but his Kevlar vest blocked it from entering his body._"

"You sure he's alright?" Gibbs pressed.

"_Yeah, he's just a little bruised, but you'd never know it by the way he's going on and on about his 'war wound'. I think if he doesn't shut up, either Ziva or Stephanie is going to find a way to shut him up _permanently."

"How 'bout the rest of you?"

"_We're fine. The plane got a bit shot up, but we're working on making repairs now. But that's the least of your worries right now._"

"Abs?" Gibbs questioned.

"_I managed to hack into the base's mainframe and establish a link between the _NCIS's _main system and the system for the base. There's some kind of alert going on in the main lab underground. I don't know where you are or where that doctor you're looking for is, but from the scans I'm getting, the lab has been flooded with toxins and the likelihood of anyone surviving long in that kind of environment is extremely remote. If you're in there, you need to get out! Like right now!_"

"We're not in the lab, Abs." Gibbs responded. "But Sisulu still is. We gotta get up there right now."

"_Hold on. I'll try to activate the emergency ventilation system to clear the lab from my end. Gibbs, do whatever it is you badass marines do, but for my sake, please be careful._"

"Always am, Abs. Let us know when the room is clear. We need to get in there as soon as possible."

As he severed the connection, Gibbs turned towards his two squad mates. Nigel immediately spoke up. "Toxins flooding the lab? What the bloody hell's going on up there?"

"Van der Merwe must have managed to activate the fail-safe system before we got here." Gibbs replied grimly. "That must have been the one Sisulu was talking about. Get moving; we gotta get up there."

The trio, still brandishing their weapons in case they ran into any more of Sisulu's rejects on the way, exited the storage hold the same way they came in. Gibbs led the trio as they moved up the metal stairs before turning and ascending the second set of stairs that led to the lab. They moved with urgency, each knowing the seriousness of the situation at hand. It took them less than half a minute before they were standing in front of the door- still unlocked.

"_Gibbs, I got the fans working!_" Abby said. "_They should completely clear the lab of any contaminants in just a few seconds. Wait for it… alright, you're clear!_"

Gibbs immediately pressed the button and the doors slid open. As he passed into the room, the first thing he noticed was that Sisulu wasn't anywhere in sight.

The second thing he noticed was that a voice was speaking from somewhere over on the other side of the room.

"…_gave me time, Gibbs. The technology I received from the Blood Devils contained information- on you, on NCIS. They know everything about you. Your missions, your successes, your failures. This is how I knew you were coming; about Somalia…_"

Gibbs quickly strode over towards the other side of the room. Upon reaching it, he stopped and observed the scene in front of him. Sisulu was lying on his back in front of the computer next to the super soldier tank; his eyes were open and unblinking, his chest motionless. As he looked up towards the sound of the voice, he could see an image of the doctor speaking on the screen. The South African looked like he was struggling to both breathe and speak; obviously this was an impromptu recording that he had set up while they had been fighting Van der Merwe, and the toxins had clearly been overwhelming him.

"_But you gave me an opportunity, Gibbs. If I knew what the Blood Devils wanted with navy personnel, I would tell you. But everything is in my prototype. My legacy… is pure and complete."_ The doctor took a deep breath of air. "_This… one soldier. This… __**gage**__…_" the doctor began to sink backwards. "_… Of perfection…_"

He sank downwards and disappeared out of view.

Gibbs holstered his pistol and turned his attention towards Sisulu's body. Maria was kneeling beside him, two fingers pressed against his throat. She looked up at Gibbs and shook her head.

The senior agent looked up at the tank beside the computer. It appeared that with his final actions, Sisulu had succeeded in saving his prototype; the massive black soldier was still floating somewhat freely in the liquid-filled tank. His eyes were still open, but it still seemed that he was completely unaware of anything that had taken place outside.

As Gibbs pondered this, Nigel and Maria both walked up and stopped right in front of the tank. "Sisulu killed thousands of his own people that he created and grew in the name of science. And yet he wasted his life for this prototype?" The Australian murmured somewhat incredulously. "Why would anyone sacrifice everything they've done - just to save this _one_ South African?"

"Must be tough." Maria interjected bluntly. "Let's crack it open- see what a pure soldier's got."

"This soldier was created using Blood Devil technology; we have no idea as to what his mental state or personality is." Gibbs responded. He turned back towards the tank. "But a pure soldier like this would pack a hell of a punch. Against the Blood Devils, we could always use another heavy hitter."

"_If_ he'll even help." Nigel stated, staring up at the tank. "I doubt anyone's ever asked for his opinion on anything before."

Gibbs put a finger to his earpiece. "_NCIS_? Sisulu's KIA, but we have a package that needs retrieval." The team leader stared up into the tank, taking in the massive muscular form of the human mountain staring directly ahead of him.

"And he's a _big_ one…"

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**BTW- Van der Merwe= Charlize Theron**

**Radafa: Hello my fellow Canuck! **

**And in case anyone's wondering- YES, this fic is heavily is influenced by Mass Effect 2. However, it is NOT a ripoff! I'm not claiming copyright or anything. This is solely for fun and enjoyment.**


	22. Never Back Down

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 16:43 EST**_

Gibbs tossed his empty coffee cup into the waste disposal bin as he strode towards the Communication Room. The trip back had been relatively quiet, with most of the team having taken advantage of the long flight to catch up on some much needed rest. Gibbs had immediately checked on Tony upon returning to the _NCIS_ and found that Abby's assessment had been accurate; despite some complaining about the bruise that was already starting to show, the ex-cop's Kevlar vest had stopped the bullet from penetrating his flesh. Nevertheless the team leader had ordered him to go visit Ducky immediately upon return to the facility. The senior field agent had at first protested but quickly gave in under the stare of the ex-marine.

The tank containing the super soldier had been temporarily hooked up to the _NCIS_'s life systems in a side control room to keep the subject inside it alive and stable on the way back to the states and it was currently stored in an isolated cargo room just adjacent to the hangar, hooked up to the base's life system to keep it stable. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure exactly what he ought to decide about it but ensured that the room was secure enough that any attempt to break out from the inside would be impossible; the soldier was, after all, created using their enemy's technology, and they had no idea on what his personality might be should he get out.

At the moment he was currently walking through the doors of the Communications Room where McCrae had informed him that Stephanie and Nigel wanted to discuss the issue with him; it seemed the two were divided over how they should handle it and Gibbs had a knowing feeling in his gut as to who was supporting which side of the argument.

Sure enough, before the doors could even fully open, he heard the voices speaking before he could see the people they belonged to.

"…bringing the South African here for in-depth study about the Blood Devils makes perfect sense, but I have very serious concerns about waking him." Stephanie stood on the far left side of the table as Gibbs entered, wearing a serious business expression. Across from her on the other side, Nigel was pacing slightly in front of the end.

"Yeah." The Australian sounded somewhat exasperated as he came to stop directly across from her. "You've mentioned that a few times now."

Gibbs stopped at the other end of the table as Stephanie went on, seemingly oblivious to the team leader's presence. "A _normal_ soldier is dangerous." The Canadian argued. "This one was created, engineered and likely educated to be the perfect weapon with the technology of an obscure enemy- by a _madman_."

"I see everyone's enjoying the new addition to the base." Gibbs spoke up dryly, crossing his arms. "Concerns?" He asked, looking as the two individuals in front of him turned their attention to the ex-marine.

Stephanie regarded Gibbs with a more serious expression than was usual for her. "We have virtually _no_ idea about what we're dealing with here, Gibbs."

"Strange." Gibbs replied in a slightly sarcastic tone. "I thought CSIS was always looking for new, competitive ways to give itself an edge. What better way than with a genetically superior soldier?"

Nigel merely crossed his own arms and shook his head slightly, as if to say he wasn't going to get involved in another CSIS-NCIS dispute between the two.

"A soldier like that would fight well in close quarters." Stephanie said, ignoring the previous remark. "Releasing him in a confined space like the cargo room wouldn't be very prudent."

"Neither would be keeping a possible ally in a sealed tank when he could be useful in our mission." Gibbs responded. "Look, I'm not suggesting we go smashing it open right now, but I'm not going to throw away a potential resource. If he can help us against the Blood Devils, I'd say it's damn sure worth the risk."

Stephanie regarded him coolly. "We spent a lot of time and money to keep you and your team alive, Gibbs. I don't think the risk you'd be taking to satisfy your curiosity is worth having that all go to waste."

Gibbs returned her look. "Noted." He uncrossed his arms. "The cargo room by the hangar is safe enough until I decide what to do with him. In the meantime, we need to regroup before we go out again. Make sure everything's ready for when we do."

Stephanie turned and briskly strode past Gibbs out of the room without looking at him or saying anything else. Nigel looked at Gibbs, gave a slight shrug of his soldiers almost apologetically and then made for the door. Gibbs followed the Australian out but quickly separated from him and strode towards the stairs leading towards the hangar area.

In reality he had already decided on his own that it would be in their best interests to deal with this issue now. Sisulu's explanation had been very sparse and from the little Gibbs could understand of the technical details, the super soldier had been the sole success, at least in the doctor's mind, of the tests and experiments he had performed. Hundreds if not thousands of created South Africans had been discarded because they had been judge as not worthy- not 'perfect'. Gibbs didn't know what Sisulu's definition of perfection was but it had come at a massive price- one Gibbs still believed would never be acceptable. However, the fact that Sisulu had knowingly sacrificed his life to save the super soldier meant that there was something different about this particular one- something he had seen that made him spare it.

The wildcard in this whole thing was that Gibbs had no idea as to what kind of personality the soldier would have should he be released. The reports he had received had been for Sisulu, not the tank-grown soldier. The fact that he had been created using Blood Devil technology made him a very unpredictable and certainly very dangerous enemy to anyone who got on his bad side. The soldier's massive size and likely enhanced attributes made it very likely that anyone who fought opposite him likely wouldn't last long in combat. On the other hand, should he decide to fight alongside the team, they would be gaining a very powerful ally. Either way, Gibbs decided that the sooner it was dealt with, the sooner they would have their answer.

Gibbs soon arrived at the cargo room near the hangar in the lower section of the base. It was a relatively small, brightly-lit room with a high ceiling, shatter-proof windows overlooking the hangar on the entire right side and a small empty metal table bolted to the floor on the left side near the far end. At the back of the room, the tank had been hooked up to the local life support system, and the black soldier inside was continuing to float around a little bit freely inside it; the man's eyes were still wide-open but there was still no sign that he was aware of what was going on outside the tank.

As the automated doors closed behind Gibbs, who approached and stopped just a few feet in front of it, Abby's voice penetrated from the speaker in the ceiling; evidently the Goth was in the central control centre, the room to which the feed for all the surveillance cameras throughout the base led- and the room which reminded Abby most of her old lab back at the Naval Yard.

"_Gibbs, I hope to God you're not thinking about cracking that thing open! The guy inside may be stable and integrated with the life support system right now, but I doubt he's just going to give you a big hug if you release him from… whatever kind of trance he's in now!_"

Gibbs knew there was a strong possibility that Abby was right, but he decided not to voice it. Instead his curiosity began to poke through- possibly the last chance to find out what they were dealing with before making any definitive decisions.

"So I keep hearing, Abs. But I'm still not convinced about that."

"_What's there not to be convinced about? The guy's a massive tank! What more do you need to know_?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the tank. "Can he see anything in there?" He asked, gesturing with one hand towards it; the question was as much to himself as it was to Abby. "Does he have any idea where he is?"

"_I doubt it_._ The readings I'm getting here from his neurological patterns indicate there's very little cognitive function. In regular person speak, that means he's almost in the equivalent of a semi-deep coma. The tank that's keeping him in this hyper-sleep state is also keeping him alive until it's opened. Unless all the power in the base was go out, for example, there are enough nutrients in the tank to keep him alive for about an entire year._"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You have any idea on how dangerous this guy is, Abs?"

"_Uh Gibbs, he's a genetically created super soldier designed to be perfect in every way that was made using tech obtained from militants who abduct sailors across the world! That's kind of a rhetorical question, don't you think?_"

"I mean right now, Abby."

"_Oh, you're asking if he's all mad and angry right at this very moment? I really couldn't tell you for certain. The tech Sisulu used to make him is likely to have implanted data in his mind, not ways of thinking. This guy may know what his opinions are but there's no guarantee he'd actually share them, even if you were to ask nicely instead of your usual method of interrogation._"

Gibbs supressed a smirk. "Okay, so now that we know that, what else can you tell me about this guy? Anything that stands out?"

"_Apart from the whole 'grown in a tank' bit? Sisulu's success story seems to be an extraordinary example of a national of the Republic of South Africa. Official stats I'm seeing here list him as six foot eight and three hundred seventy-five pounds, with a massive level of bulk and muscle and only about five percent body fat. The tech upgrades Sisulu implanted in him give superior attributes than other people of his size, such as greatly enhanced strength, speed and agility. If what I'm seeing is right, then his natural regeneration is also superior to a normal person. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that he could survive and heal much faster from wounds that kill anyone else; there are no defects of any kind. The only thing I can't tell you from the data is how his mind is functioning._"

Gibbs nodded. He had heard all he needed to hear and that had just confirmed what he had decided to do on the way to the room.

"Abby- stand by." The ex-marine spoke firmly. "I'm going to open the tank up and let him out."

There was an immediate protest from the Goth scientist/co-pilot. "_No Gibbs, __**please**__ don't do that! We've already had enough close calls as it is! I don't want to have to see whether you get annihilated or worse just because your badass marine pride won't let you see reason!_"

"This isn't about pride, Abs- this is about doing what's right." Gibbs responded even more firmly.

"_How can you say __**this**__ is right?_"

"Sisulu saved this soldier for a reason." The senior agent replied. "He's either a powerful addition to the team or a ticking time bomb. Either way, I'd rather deal with it now. Are the controls to the tank online?"

"_Yes, but Gibbs…!_" The voice of the Goth was cut off as Gibbs flicked the _Off_ switch in the wall over the table.

The team leader stared up at the tank and at the beige combat-suited individual floating around inside it. Here in the confined space of the cargo room, the soldier seemed to be even more massive than he had been in the underground base in Cape Town. Though he wore a neutral, unfocused expression the tank-bred seemed to have a fire in his deep in his eyes. Gibbs didn't know what the fire was directed at but he figured that the sooner he found out the better.

The ex-marine took a few tentative steps towards the tank, paused for a second and then reached out and pressed the rectangular green button on the side of the tank that he had previously discovered to be the release switch.

He immediately took a few steps back- not in a fearful fashion, but one that made sure he was out of the immediate line of fire- and watched.

There was a slow, single sounding beep that was emitted from the tank- about one beep a second that lasted about five seconds. Then all of a sudden there was a great _whooshing _sound, like an air-tight room being opened up; Gibbs watched in interest as the level in the tank quickly began to drop and drain into the bottom. The entire draining process for the eight foot high tank took no more than four seconds, setting the soldier's feet gently onto the bottom. There was a _click_ and the glass front separated into two halves and swung open; the soldier dropped down out onto the floor landing on his hands and knees- his eyes still open and this time fully aware.

The massive black man's torso tensed up and gave a mighty heave; a large amount of tank fluid was expelled up from his lungs out of his mouth and onto the floor. As he gave a second, smaller cough Gibbs took another two steps back and waited for him to finish, giving him slightly more space.

After a few seconds, the man slowly rose up to his full height and fixed his attention on Gibbs; it was only then that Gibbs realized the true extent of the South African's size. In the tank, he looked constrained and relatively peaceful; outside he seemed to have doubled in height and broadness. The massive bulk visible underneath the man's combat suit attested to the effort that had been put into him during his creation, as did his size; the South African's six foot eight, three hundred seventy-five pound frame seemed to immediately fill the space in front of Gibbs, even blocking out some of the light from the ceiling.

Despite this, Gibbs did not back down; showing any sign of fear or weakness would never cross his mind but especially not at a time like this. Instead his face remained impartial and he took several confident steps forward until he was only a few feet away from the soldier. There he stopped and stared up at the human mountain.

The man's eyes were only about halfway open but they were filled with both interest and curiosity. And all of that was focused on Gibbs. For several seconds, the two men stared at each other, neither making or move or giving an inch.

Then all of a sudden, the man lunged forward with an agility that was truly remarkable and shocking and seized Gibbs by the throat, letting out a large growl as he did so. Taking a couple large steps that crossed almost half the room and passed the table, he lifted the ex-marine up into the air easily with one hand and slammed him with tremendous force against the wall opposite the windows, pressing his massive right forearm just below Gibbs's throat; the team leader's feet dangled at least six inches above the floor, and the soldier's face was barely an inch away from Gibbs' own.

"American, male." The first words out of the South African's voice were spoken in a gravelly and very deep voice, and the tang of his accent was clear in the intonations as he stared right at the senior agent. "Before you die, I need a name."

Despite the situation and not feeling completely confident, Gibbs still did not show intimidation. Instead he glared back at the man and spoke with unwavering strength. "I'm Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and I sure as hell don't take threats lightly." He said slowly, calculating and tersely. "I suggest you calm down."

The man shook his head. "Not your name- mine. I was created, I'm trained and I know things. But the tank…" He shook his head. "Sisulu couldn't implant me with any kind of connection. His words are hollow and far apart."

His face took on an inquisitive look. "Doctor, legacy, soldier, gage…" His eyes narrowed. "_Gage_… 'Gage' was among the last I heard; it has no meaning for me." He paused for a brief second before turning back to Gibbs. "It'll do."

He drew himself up slightly higher. "I am Gage. If you are truly as special as you claim, prove your strength and try to destroy me."

Gibbs's own eyes narrowed. "You _want_ me to try to kill you?"

"Want?" Gage questioned. "There is no 'want'. I do what I was created for; fight and reveal the strongest and toughest. Nothing in the tank ever asked what I _want_. I feel nothing for Sisulu's historical tribal links or his enemies; that imprint failed to connect with me. _He_ has failed. Without a reason that's solely mine, one fight and battle is as good as any other." The South African shrugged. "May as well start with you."

"Is it really that easy for Sisulu's perfect South African to abandon his mission?" Gibbs asked, keeping a one handed grip on the soldier's forearm.

"Sisulu is just a voice that I heard in the tank." Gage responded. "If his imprints are accurate, then he created something far stronger than himself, so he's not worthy of me. And if his views and hatreds aren't strong enough to compel me to follow his path, they've failed as well." He paused for a second. "I feel _nothing_. I have no connection."

Gibbs fixed the South African with a firm and strong glare but when he spoke it was not with coldness or anger but direct strength and confidence. "I rescued you from being killed, I brought you here and I released you." His voice was unshaken. "Follow my command and you'll have purpose."

Gage's eyes narrowed. "Nothing in the tank imprints indicated the level of force that Americans possess." The South African paused for a second. "You command as though you've _earned_ it."

"My enemies threaten the entire world." Gibbs responded. "And everyone under my command has earned their place; they're strong. You'd make it stronger."

"If your enemies are weak and unworthy," Gage remarked seriously, "I'll have to kill you."

"Our enemies are worthy." Gibbs stared back at the man. "_There's no question of that_."

"Hmmm…" A look of deep concentration passed over the South African's face; he seemed to be contemplating his options. Finally, he seemed to make a decision. "Hmm! That's… acceptable." He gave a curt nod. "I'll fight by your side."

"I'm glad you saw reason." Gibbs remarked dryly, his eyes flickering downwards for a brief second.

"Hmm?" The South African looked down and observed that in his spare hand, Gibbs was holding his SIG Sauer barely a millimetre away from Gage's sternum. The ex-marine had been holding the soldier at gunpoint the entire time they had been talking.

To his surprise, the South African gave a curt, approving chuckle and released his hold on Gibbs. The ex-marine dropped down to the ground, lowering his gun, and Gage moved back a step. "Offer one hand but arm the other." Gage gave another approving nod. "Wise move, Gibbs. Act like that and the Blood Devils will have found a worthy opponent in you."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed in confusion. "You already knew about the Blood Devils?"

"I was created using their technology. Sisulu's implants gave me pictures in my mind." Gage raised a hand to his head. "I see blurry ships, guesswork about strength and numbers- but nothing to pick a weak spot and tear it apart. Sisulu spent all his time on out of date hatreds and estimates." He shrugged. "Whatever information he had, it was used up and absorbed when he made me."

"You may not remember," Gibbs slid his gun back into his holster, "but that doesn't mean it was all worthless and a waste of time. As long you're here and can fight with our squad, it's something."

"As long as your squad knows how to fight; if you command with such strength as you do now, they'll be a good bunch as long as they stay out of my way. If they don't, they'll soon be a dead bunch." He nodded. "Train them well if you want to take on Blood Devils; some of their natural instincts are too soft."

"You worry about following my command." Gibbs ordered. "I'll deal with handling my team."

"Fair enough." Gage conceded.

Gibbs turned and made to leave the room. He stopped when he heard Gage's voice call out. "By the way, Gibbs…"

The team leader turned around; the South African had moved to the back and standing in front of his tank.

"If I find a stronger, more familiar group for myself- if I find what I… _want_," Gage gave another curt nod, "I will be honoured to pit them against you."

Gibbs' face betrayed no emotion, but as the ex-marine walked out of the room he couldn't help but wonder about the exact implication of the South African's last statement.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**


	23. Distrust and Guilt

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 17:01 EST**_

"I don't need a damn medical exam." Maria growled as she sat on one of the examination beds in the medical bay in her black tank top. "I survived just fine without doctors and nurses holding my hand in Rio. I do not need anyone's help with anything."

Ducky, who was in the middle of examining a sizable cut on the inside of the Brazilian's bicep, gave her a patronizing look. "Now my dear, I am quite certain that in Rio you were more than adequately prepared to deal with anything by yourself, but this medical bay is my jurisdiction. As long as you are in my jurisdiction, I will be the judge of what you require. And what you require is some antiseptic and this wound to be closed."

"I don't want any fucking stitches." Maria complained. But as a wave of dizziness overcame her, she reluctantly held her arm still while the Scottish doctor passed his eye over the gash.

"Fortunately I don't think it will require many to close this. But I would still advise you to take more care of yourself in the future. When you first came here, you promptly passed out for a quarter of an hour. Now I do not believe you have a concussion or any serious head injury but they next time you decide to throw yourself against a steel floor and slide along it, you may not be so fortunate. If the scope of this mission is indeed as serious as I have heard it to be, it would not do you well to get yourself killed before hand."

"Whatever." The BOPE officer said dismissively.

The door opened and Jimmy Palmer came walking in, carrying several vials and bottles. "I got the supplies you asked for, doctor. Everything was fully stocked and ready to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer." Ducky said absently, taking the supplies and moving towards the back of the room.

Maria stared at the young man and snorted. "What are you, his little errand boy?"

Jimmy stared at the Brazilian. Though he had heard- or perhaps the better term would be _had been_ _warned_- about her unpredictable and violent nature, he was not used to being called something like that. Sure, he had put up with a lot of stuff from Tony over the years but the senior agent had always done it in a more joking fashion. Here the young man could literally _feel_ the ridicule and dismissal coming off of her. It immediately got to him.

"No, I'm…"

"What?" She interrupted. "What are you going to say? His little bitch? That would be one messed up image in my mind."

"I'm the medical examiner's assistant." He said rather annoyed.

Maria scoffed. "Sure. What the hell does Gibbs need a scrawny little bastard like you here for? You would probably break your legs just running away from the Blood Devils."

"I was at the Naval Yard when the Blood Devils attacked it." Jimmy defended himself, and his usual nervousness around people like her and Gibbs seemed to fade away. "I saw what they did; a lot of good people were killed back there. CSIS rescued me from the yard after it was demolished. I think that means they at least consider me important enough to be worth saving."

"Maybe. I don't care either way. So long as you stay out of my way, there will be no reason why your shell-filled body will be found here on the floor."

Jimmy decided to ignore that remark and instead said, "The wound in your arm is minor; we should be able to get it healed up quickly. But you still lost consciousness for about fifteen minutes."

"I got into a disagreement with floor back in Cape Town." Maria responded. "It is nothing."

"A mere bump on the floor wouldn't cause you to pass out like that." Jimmy argued. "I don't think it's a concussion, but we need to run some tests just to be sure." He paused for a moment, and a slight look of nervousness returned to his face "Uh… look, I don't mean to pry or anything but we have to make sure before we move on. One of the possible causes for abruptly losing consciousness is a possible reaction to certain chemicals in your body. Have- have you been, uh… using any… any drugs in the last twenty-four hours?"

"No." Maria shook her head. "I experienced enough of that shit earlier in my life to know when something disagrees with you. Why? Do you think all South American women are dirt-poor, homeless crack-users?"

"No!" Jimmy said quickly. "We just need to make sure you're not having a severe reaction to any substance in your body. With all the places we're going to, any foreign contaminant can have a bad reaction with a number of substances in the body. The risk of infection is also high as wounds can't always been cleaned properly at any particular moment. Those old scars you have on your lower back are at the greatest risk if they were to re-open accidently."

Ducky saw the look come into the Brazilian's eyes and was astute enough to immediately duck down behind one of the examination beds.

**NCIS**

"I do not know what you are trying to say, Tony." Ziva said with concern as she sat on one of the beds in the men's bunk area. "The South African's lack of loyalty could be extremely problematic. He was created using technology obtained from the Blood Devils; how are we to be certain that he will not turn on us sometime down the vine?"

"Down the _line_, Zee-vah." The ex-cop called down to her. "And I doubt that he'll be stupid enough to make a decision like that. Gibbs apparently trusts him enough to keep him alive. Well, that and the fact that the boss was holding that tank-grown version of Michael Clarke Duncan at gunpoint the whole time they were talking." Tony shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling. "Man, how I would have _loved_ to see that! Maybe Abby can loan us a copy of the surveillance tape!"

"I heard the soldier has started calling himself 'Gage.'" McGee pointed out from one of the other bunks. "I wonder why."

"Last thing he heard before Sisulu succumbed to the toxins in the lab." Nigel explained, munching on a protein bar. "According to our late doctor friend, the soldier was the key to his legacy- his _gage_ of perfection." The Australian shrugged. "Not really the most original name he could have picked, but…"

The shriek of horror and rage from down the hall in the medical bay had all four of the teammates turning around quickly and staring at the door as the undoubtedly female voice radiated around the room despite the solid closed door.

"What was that?" Ziva asked- her eyes narrowing as her hand automatically went for a knife in her belt.

"Don't know." Nigel stared at the door. "Not sure I really want to know either…"

**NCIS**

"You took _my fucking clothes_ _off_ while I was out?" Maria shouted, and the examination table was the only thing separating her and the object of her fury. "What are you, some kind of fucking pervert doctor who can't get it up for women who are conscious, so you do it while they're _unconscious_?"

"No! Of course not!" Jimmy managed to blurt out, pressed up against the wall in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the pissed off BOPE officer. "Nothing of the kind! It was a strictly medical concern! We had to rule out the possibilities of an infection and one of the most common ways of contracting it is through old injuries which have been re-opened. That meant we had to check your body to see if that was a possibility. I-I saw the scars by accident, I swear! And I swear on my life I didn't try anything! Doctor Mallard can attest to that!"

"Sure- I'm sure he'd say anything so he wouldn't get his little errand boy in trouble. Besides, how am I supposed to know you two are not a couple of perverts masquerading as doctors?"

"You can ask G-Gibbs! I'll take you to him right now to confirm that!"

Maria sighed and rolled her eyes. "Palmer, the way you say it, you look like you would pass out if Gibbs even looked at you. Plus, you look like you're about to piss a litre in your pants and I have not even threatened you yet. Maybe that's a sign you are telling the truth. Or maybe it's a sign that you have no balls at all. Either way, we are going to deal with it here and now."

"Look," Jimmy said, moving perhaps half an inch away from the wall. "I know you're not very happy about it, but that was the only way to make sure that one of any old wounds you have hadn't become infected. We know that now and we know it's not a concussion, so it's probably just a minor issue. I think you should take it easy until Gibbs calls you into the field again. And if you want my opinion, it would be a good idea to continue to have your old injuries examined occasionally to make sure they stay closed. I suggest a session after each time you go into a combat mission, just to be safe."

He barely saw the Brazilian leap up over the metal table, but he sure as hell felt her slam her forearm into his throat. And he sure saw the murderous look in her eyes which bore into his own.

"Alright." She growled, and with her free hand she pulled up a solid grey handgun that she had somehow kept hidden during the initial examination in her BOPE pants, pressing it forcefully against his throat. "You have about five seconds to revise that statement before I blow your scrawny little ass all over the wall. I would start with your dick and balls," her eyes darkened even more, "but I don't think you have any."

Jimmy, now sweating profusely and gulping like a fish, started talking very fast. "Okay, okay! We won't do it every time you come back from combat. But you can't just leave it alone like this. I saw how fragile some of the old wounds are; the slightest pressure in the right place could rip them open and expose them to contamination. You're going to be much help to the team if you're struck down by infection." He felt brave enough to raise a finger, even though he didn't dare put it anywhere near where it could come into contact with her. "If you don't want to do it after each mission, that's fine. We can work out an alternative; a small examination every forty-eight hours on the areas that are most at risk. Typically infections take several days to take affect; anything we catch can be treated immediately before it gets out of control. And it would avoid having a… similar instance like this take place. It would make more time to concentrate on the Blood Devils. That's the whole point of this mission, isn't it?"

It took about half a minute of heart-pounding silence, albeit full of heavy breathing, for Maria's expression to change from 'completely homicidal' to 'very pissed off'. Even so, it was not a look that put the ME's assistant at ease.

"Alright." Maria relented, removing her forearm and weapon from Jimmy's throat and letting him back down. "But you only get one chance with this. You put _one_ _finger __**anywhere**_ where it does not belong," she aimed her gun at his crotch, "you certainly _will_ be missing your dick and balls. _Entendido_?"

Jimmy swallowed hard. "I understand."

Maria smirked. "I guess you are not as useless as I believed after all. Perhaps Gibbs was right to keep your scrawny ass around." She shrugged. "And perhaps you have a set after all. Best try to keep it Palmer; you'd be so much more useful with it."

As she turned and walked away, Jimmy stood still, trying to process what she had just said. It was only when she had reached the door when he suddenly remembered the original reason of why she had been there in the first place. "Wait! What about the stitches for your arm?"

Without looking back, Maria raised her hand and made what looked to be an 'O.K.' sign with her thumb and forefinger. "Bite me, Palmer."

Jimmy stared in confusion as the door slid closed. On one hand, she'd given him a symbol that he took to meant that things were alright. On the other hand, she'd just told him to bite her. _Literally or figuratively,_ he caught himself thinking. His confusion must have shown on his face, for he heard a slightly dry cough from the back of the room behind the examination bed.

"Doctor Mallard?"

"I believe that Miss Soares just gave you the Brazilian equivalent of the middle finger, Mr. Palmer. I seem to recall a similar instance in the early 1990s in Brasilia with a fine native lass and a drunken football player…"

**NCIS**

_Dr. Sisulu killed in process of recruitment, but was able to recover his 'son'. Subject is a genetically superior, tank-grown super soldier being referred to as 'Gage'. Personally recommended against activation of South African, but was overridden by Gibbs. Subject showed initial aggression and has a current lack of loyalty towards any particular group. Will be keeping any eye in case subject needs to be put down; if required, will recommend body be preserved to study Blood Devil technology. Lack of CSIS knowledge of mercenary activity and biological experiments disconcerting. Recommend sending agents to examine whether similar incidents are taking place in southern Africa._

Stephanie sent the message and leaned back in her chair. It all seemed so formal, so orderly… so perfect. Just like she had trained herself to be- _perfect_.

That had always been the goal for her; be better than everyone else so no one could take advantage of her. It had worked- to a point anyway. But she had already acknowledged to herself that it was an impossible goal. She wasn't perfect- she couldn't be. And when she made mistakes, the consequences could be very severe. She couldn't afford that- not now.

Not for this mission.

A look of worry that she would never show in public broke through her cold façade. This mission _had _to succeed. It just had to- even if it cost them everything.

When was she going to tell Gibbs the truth?

When was she going to tell him that the team he was leading- the ones who had rescued him, the ones they were picking up and the ones he both worked alongside with and trusted far more than he trusted her- was one they were unlikely to come back alive from?

When was he going to learn that this mission they were undertaking was in all probability a suicide mission…?

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**The next chapter is going to have some really cool lead-up to the action in the chapter after it!**


	24. Alert

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 17:15 EST**_

"Gibbs!"

The senior agent had barely set one foot in the door of the base's common area when he was immediately hit by a force consisting of a black skull-and-crossbones shirt, platform boots and pigtails, which immediately wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. Gibbs staggered slightly before gently patting the force on the back. "Good to see you too, Abby."

"Gibbs, you had me so worried!" The Goth pried herself away from his chest to look up at him. "What were you doing, scaring me like that?" She crossed her arms and put on a look that ranged somewhere from mock outrage to reproach. "For a second I thought you were going to have a new favourite friend named Bubba… or Gage in that room!"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "I hope you also saw the end of that meeting, Abs."

"_See_ it! I practically _relished_ it!" Abby grinned from ear to ear. "I can't believe you did that! Well actually, yes I can believe it because it's _you_ were talking about but that was just _amazing_! That massive tank didn't even see you press that gun right up against him. One twitch of the finger and _bam_! The 'perfect South African soldier' would have met his end at the hands of Leroy Jethro Gibbs himself!"

"Maybe." The ex-marine replied. "But it didn't come to that; you saw that yourself. For now I think he's stable enough to be relied on in the field, but if he so much as moves a finger in the wrong direction I won't be so accommodating next time."

"You're right to not just trust someone like that right off the bat." An accent-less female voice said from behind Abby. "The psych reports we had were for Sisulu; Gage's personality is completely unknown, except for his apparent love of violence and bloodshed. I get the feeling he doesn't care who lives or dies, so you should be extra cautious when dealing with him."

Gibbs' eyes moved passed Abby towards the table she had leapt up from upon his entry. Standing up from the chair across the table from the one recently occupied by the forensic scientist/co-pilot was a young woman in her mid to late twenties wearing a short-sleeved business uniform with a light-coloured complexion and shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair with streaks of pink mixed in with them. This latter trait caught the ex-marine's attention, but only because it seemed so contrasting to the rest of the facility. Well, that and it contrasted with Abby's Goth look, which he had gotten used to after so many years.

"Who are you?" The former sniper asked formally.

"My name is Chloe Summers. I was assigned to this base by Director Delcourt as the primary psychologist for this mission." She smiled. "And I'd like to say what an honour it is to meet you after hearing Abby's tales of your fearless exploits, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as Abby shot him an innocent-looking grin. He turned his attention back towards the strawberry blonde. "You're a psychologist?"

Chloe nodded. "Yes. I have a degree in psychology from the University of Western Ontario. I graduated _cum laude_ at the top of my class and received almost universal job offers from many employers across Canada. But I'm not someone who likes traditional office work; I've always had an interest in travel and helping others. When I received a personal offer from the director of CSIS, I jumped at the chance to do it. I have to say I'm thrilled about this opportunity; I feel I can honestly make a difference here."

"I didn't realize Delcourt thought a psychologist was necessary on this kind of assignment." Gibbs said with heavy scepticism, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at the young woman.

"CSIS always takes precautions to make sure anything they do runs smoothly and efficiently." Chloe responded. "Everyone in this base knows how dangerous this mission is; a number of us may not be coming back." Gibbs raised another eyebrow, but let her continue. "Until that point in time, we have to make sure that each member of the team is mentally ready to perform their duties; failure to do so means that our chances of success are significantly lower. I want to ensure that doesn't happen."

"If your job is so important," Gibbs said, "how come this is the first time I've seen you around here?"

"Uh, hello Gibbs!" Abby said in mock shock. "We just spent the last twenty-four hours zipping across half the world in a super cool airplane! I ought to know; I helped fly it all the way back from the southern tip of Africa!"

Chloe shook her head. "It's not just that, Abby. Being the base's psychologist is only my main official job. My other one is to pass any incoming messages from CSIS's main facility to the relevant personnel. That job has already taken up a sizeable portion of my time; that and analyzing the current members of the team in terms of mental health. You'll be pleased to know that all the current members of CSIS and ASIS here are doing very well."

"I'm more concerned about the mental fitness of my field team." Gibbs pointed out.

"Of course. That's completely understandable. Well, each one has their own unique personality which makes their psych reports different. Gage's, as I already told you, is unknown and should be approached with caution. René Giguère appears to combine his work-driven personality with occasional bursts of hyper-behaviour and a slightly cold temperament. Maria's personality suggests deep personal issues and a lack of desire for interaction with other people. Officer Brewer and Agent Warner were already cleared by prior CSIS examiners; their records are not available to me."

"And don't forget the Triumphant Trio!" Abby added, looking towards Gibbs. "If Tony, Ziva and McGee haven't been driven crazy by Gibbs at this point in time, I doubt anything could break their minds!"

"Is that right?" Gibbs looked at the Goth, who was grinning up at him. He could hear Chloe at the table give a valiant effort- which failed miserably- to avoid giggling and look professional. In reality he had a hard time keeping a smirk off his own face, but somehow managed to keep his unreadable face on.

"You said that you would pass on any messages to relevant members of the team if they come in." Gibbs said to the young psychologist. "Does that include members of the field team?"

"Oh, yes!" Chloe nodded her head enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement. "As a matter of fact, it's a good thing you came by, sir. I…"

"Just 'Gibbs'."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't call me 'sir'." The ex-marine explained. "Just 'Gibbs' or 'Agent Gibbs' is fine."

Chloe seemed to be caught off guard by this remark and turned towards Abby. The Goth nodded. "He's not really much for formal stuff like that. I'd suggest saying 'boss' or 'bossman', but that right's reserved only for close NCIS personnel." She shrugged sympathetically. "Sorry, Chloe."

"I see." The Canadian turned back somewhat hesitantly towards Gibbs. "Then, Agent Gibbs, you should know that Director Delcourt sent an urgent message just a few minutes ago; he wishes to speak to you in the Communications Room immediately."

"Did he say why?" Gibbs pressed.

Chloe shook her head. "No. Details of cases like those are rarely discussed on open networks. He wishes to speak to you in person; that means it must be really important."

"I'll bet." Gibbs grunted. He turned back to Abby. "Hope you got in your share of Caf-Pows, Abs. Looks like we might be setting off again pretty soon. I'll need you and McCrae to be on standby."

Abby snapped into a mock salute. "Ready for duty, sir!"

"What'd I just say about calling me 'sir'?"

"Ready for duty, ma'am!"

Gibbs merely shook his head and turned towards the door. As he walked out of the Common Room, he could hear the sound of the two women giggling. "How do you get away with that?" Chloe asked in a hushed tone.

Abby's response was immediate. "Easy- I'm his favourite!"

**NCIS**

In the Communications Room, the lights dimmed as Gibbs stood in front of the main screen; the screen flickered once and then came online; on it. Gibbs observed as the image of the CSIS director appeared; the man was still sitting behind his desk, and at the moment was in the process of taking a sip of something from a short glass. His attention immediately focused on the ex-sniper.

"Gibbs," he said, setting the glass down on his desk, "I think we've got them! Our intelligence just reported in that one of your naval bases in Virginia, Camp Jefferson, has just gone silent. If it already isn't under attack, then it soon will be. Has Giguère developed a successful countermeasure to the Blood Devils' nerve toxin?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not yet."

"Then I hope he works well under pressure." Delcourt replied. "The base's communication systems seem to all be offline. It's far too much of a coincidence to be a simple systems failure, and the speed of the shutdown matches that found at Camp Barry. If the Blood Devils haven't already struck, they will be able to do so without any distress signal being sent out from the base. And there's something else you should know."

Gibb stared at the Canadian impatiently as the director finished off his drink. "An old acquaintance of yours is currently on-site of the base- one Special Agent Tobias Fornell."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. That was certainly _not_ what he had expected Delcourt to say. "Last time I checked, Fornell was with the FBI, not the Navy or NCIS. What's he doing there?"

"Impossible to say offhand." Delcourt replied. "Even with our systems, we haven't been able to track communications between the FBI and any US Navy base. But it's clear that something's going on there, and if they've sent an agent like Tobias Fornell, it must be major. I suggest you take it up with him."

Gibbs shook his head. That sounded too easy- too simple. "The Blood Devils just _happened_ to pick a naval base with a person that I occasionally work with from time to time? I don't buy that, Delcourt; it's far beyond coincidence."

Delcourt regarded him coolly. "It shouldn't be a surprise that the Blood Devils are interested in you, Gibbs- especially if they're aware that you survived their ambush at Camp Barry. And you have to remember that there's a very good chance that they're working for another enemy; an enemy we currently have no information about that likely has their own motives and agendas."

He stared Gibbs directly in the eye. "They may be going after _him_ to get to _you…_"

"Then we need to send a message to the Navy to give us backup." Gibbs replied firmly. "If this _is_ a Blood Devil attack, we're going to need all the help we can get."

The director shook his head. "No- not until you confirm that this is what we believe it is. I don't want the Navy or any other military unit getting in our way. Once you've pacified the situation and have it under control, the first alert to your military will be sent by me _personally_. But not before then."

Gibbs clenched his jaw. It seemed that every time he spoke to the CSIS director, he felt like he was pulling teeth- more specifically, _his own_ teeth.

"Alright, fine." He said after a moment of tense silence. "Send the coordinates for the naval base; we'll leave immediately."

Delcourt looked at him straight in the eye. "This is the most warning that we've ever had, Gibbs. It'll be dangerous, but I have confidence in your abilities. Good luck."

He ended the transmission.

Gibbs stood in place for a brief moment as the screen went blank and the lights went back up. Then he strode over towards the intercom in the side wall and flicked it to Stephanie's private office. "Brewer, tell Abby and McCrae to prepare the _NCIS_ for take-off. We're heading immediately to Camp Jefferson in Virginia. I'm going to go see the professor."

"_Yes, Agent Gibbs_." The senior field agent switched off the intercom and headed out in the direction of the laboratory.

**NCIS**

René Giguère's eyes narrowed in concentration at the screen next to the large glass case directly in front of him. _Two substances seem to be interacting with each other with minimal negative effects. The implications here a very promising. Encounter with nerve toxin produces immediate paralysis without safeguard; solution may not be perfect but still offers viable alternative. Shame that quantity levels are so low; with right amount, can pass safely through affected area_.

The Frenchman straightened up and stepped back a few paces, still observing the case. His attention was broken only when he heard the sliding of the automatic door and turned to find Gibbs striding into the lab towards him. The senior agent stopped alongside Giguère and took a brief glance at the case- the numbers and symbols on the screen meaning nothing to him- before turning back to the former DGSE agent.

"_Tell me_ you have something." Gibbs said, not even bothering to mask the impatience in his voice.

Giguère looked back at the computer screen for a second, his eyes narrowed in concentration. When he turned back to Gibbs, the team leader was almost surprised to see a thin smile crack and temporarily light up his face. As he turned and started walking towards his main workstation, his head gave an affirmative nod and the single word that passed from his throat was filled with certainty and affirmation.

"_Yes._"

Intrigued, Gibbs followed him to his station, where the Frenchman picked up from his desks- among various test tubes, containers and one very nasty-looking serrated knife- four tiny syringes filled with a sky-blue coloured liquid. Giguère held them up for Gibbs to see, a look of triumph of his face.

"That's it?" Gibbs asked somewhat incredulously.

"_Oui_. One inoculation for each subject. Effect will last approximately three hours at present time. I am currently running simulations to see if longer inoculation periods and larger quantities can be produced, but this should suffice for the time being."

"You'd damn sure better be right because we're gonna see just how effective it is- in person." Gibbs replied. "Take those things with you- you're coming along with me for this mission. I wanna see just how well you are under fire."

"As you wish. However, there are still two inoculations present. If you are facing the Blood Devils, I would recommend you bring along three team members as opposed to just one. Four guns are much more likely to save a base than just two, _n'est-ce pas_?"

Gibbs couldn't argue with that logic; if he couldn't get Navy support to back him up, then he'd just have to use whatever was available to him. Right now that meant members of his growing team.

After a brief moment of pondering, Gibbs strode over to the lab's intercom and set it to the entire base. "This is Special Agent Gibbs." He spoke into it. "Gage, DiNozzo- report to the _NCIS_ immediately."

"_Ah_." Giguère remarked as Gibbs cut the connection. "Use of varied squad. Physically superior soldier and a familiar capable second-in-command. Very astute. Very wise."

Gibbs didn't reply as he and Giguère walked out of the lab in the direction of the stairs leading to the hangar, but inside he agreed with the Frenchman's assessment. He needed to see Gage's skills up close just like he did with Giguère's, and he needed someone he could trust in case the South African for some reason decided to go rogue- hence, Tony. His gut was telling him that Gage could be relied on- at least for the time being- but he was not about to take a chance like that.

Especially when they were about to face the enemy that had all but destroyed NCIS.

Except for _them_.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**The next couple of chapters are going to be ACTION PACKED! (Just like quite a few of the chapters to come in this story). And you'll get your first up-close look at the Blood Devils!**

**Stormhunter117: Before you ask- YES, Chloe Summers is the equivalent of Kelly Chambers! She is NOT the exact same character, but her purpose is similar- and you'll see that later on in the story (and no, I'm not talking about loyalty missions!)**

**BTW- I've opened up a poll in my profile where you can vote which of the new team members is your favourite! I'll update it as each new member is added. It's up now with the current choices: vote away!**

**P.S.- I'd like to get your opinion: Which of the new team members do you trust? Which of the new team members do you not trust? Why do you trust or not trust them? I'll ask this question again once all the new squad members have been picked up, but what are your thoughts for now?**


	25. Attack on Camp Jefferson

_**Day 3: Camp Jefferson- US Naval Base; south-western Virginia, United States, 17:47 EST**_

Fornell have a sigh as he strode across the training field; his joints weren't quite as mobile as they used to be and on top of that his patience was being severely tested- as was it always when things weren't going the way he wanted them to.

"Petty Officer, I understand your need for 'naval security' or whatever it is you call it, but I think national security is just a little more important- especially when it involves naval personnel just like you." He said to his well-cut, brunette companion who was walking briskly beside him.

"I'm sorry Agent Fornell, but I really can't tell you anything." Petty Officer Rachel Marston replied as they continued to walk, moving past several other marines. "I really shouldn't even be speaking to you without the base commander's permission- he's probably the one who can give you any details about what you need to know. But I'm really not sure what you're looking for, sir; the last time I checked, the Navy was investigated by NCIS, not the FBI."

"Yeah well, when NCIS is physically obliterated to the point of non-existence that tends to slow them down just a little." Fornell said curtly, coming to a dead stop and forcing the petty officer to do the same and face him. "And the FBI tends to notice when both an agency they occasionally work with and a whole navy base gets blown sky-high. Plus, we keep hearing these rumours about other bases just going missing with no sign of anything. I think I'd be just a little more concerned in your place if I were you."

"Marines tend not to trust federal agencies, sir." Rachel responded with her hands folded behind her back. "It's nothing personal. If there is a situation involving the Navy, we tend to deal with it ourselves."

"Yeah." Fornell muttered. "Until the agency investigating it gets attacked and the majority of the people working there are either dead or unaccounted for. _We're_ trying to do something! I'd think you'd be a little more appreciative of any help you get."

"With all due respect sir, we have our own problems to deal with. The base's power systems went out about ten minutes ago and the defence towers are still offline. I can't go into the details, but we're almost entirely preoccupied with trying to get everything working. We don't have the time to ask around to see what other bases are doing at any particular time."

"Defence towers? What, are we under invasion or something? I didn't get a chance to read the newspaper over coffee this morning."

"I can't talk about it, Agent Fornell. All I can say is that we have a defence system set up and we're still trying to get them to operate properly. I don't know the reason why they suddenly stopped working along with the rest of the systems but right now the base is vulnerable and that's the primary concern we're dealing with."

Fornell snorted. "Sure. I'm amazed people haven't started to blame _me _for the defence towers not working. Seems they're convinced everything else around here is my fault if the welcome I got was anything to go by."

"As I said sir, we tend to have a slightly suspicious view of federal investigations into our own affairs." Rachel replied apologetically. "It's nothing personal."

Fornell was just about to open his mouth to reply- either with an understanding comment or a sarcastic remark; he wasn't sure which- when the entire atmosphere around them suddenly changed dramatically. The air seemed to take on a deep chill and the sun setting in the background was abruptly blocked out, cutting off all the sunlight beaming down on the training field.

Rachel and Fornell both looked up at the sky; though the evening was only a partly cloudy one, the sky had suddenly been filled with a thick, grey cover of cloud. The area in the centre of it was rapidly darkening and spreading across the entire sky.

Rachel stared at the phenomenon. "What is that?"

By now, the event had attracted every marine on the field; at least a dozen men and women had gathered around the pair and were staring up the sky as the entire area continued to get darker. A mysterious sound was starting to emanate from the cloudy matter; a strange combination sounding like both thunder rumbling and faint crackling, like electricity.

Fornell slowly drew his gun from its holster and pointed it upwards in the direction, sighting down the barrel. A disturbing feeling was starting to make itself known in his stomach.

An outline appeared through the dark cloud, faint at first. It grew clearer and clearer, and as it did so did the rumbling and crackling sounds. The outline seemed to descend, lower and lower- edging its way forward as it did. As it continued along this path, the clouds seemed to lift upwards, expelling slowly but surely the figure behind them; a massive jet black airplane unlike any Fornell had ever seen. Bigger than a regular 747, it mysteriously had the appearance of a fighter jet. The rumblings from the sky grew slightly louder and more noticeable, while sparks of yellow electricity crackled around the plane's nose.

Keeping his weapon and eye trained on the plane, Fornell murmured to Rachel, "Get everyone to somewhere secure."

The petty officer turned towards the FBI agent. "What?"

There was another sudden noise from the plane; like a large vent being opened. A second later, the air near the bottom of the ship became thick and blurry, as though a significant heat source had been lit underneath it. The substance rapidly spread and swept downwards in the direction of the base.

"Go!" Fornell fired a shot off in the direction of the ship. "I'll cover you!"

Most of the marines in the surrounding area turned and started running away, but despite their high level of physical fitness it seemed that the mysterious substance could flow across and down faster than they could move. In a matter of seconds it had descended from the bottom of the aircraft to the ground level. Fornell stood his ground, continuing to fire at the ship despite the chaos around him. Rachel turned to run away in the same direction and stumbled over a rock just by her foot. Fornell turned around and hauled her to her feet before turning back to the plane- just as the translucent substance swept over him.

The FBI agent's body immediately and temporarily seized up, his limbs becoming completely numb in a split second. His weapon remained in his hand, clasped in his grasp as his balance gave way. Fornell's body fell to the ground, still in the seized up stance it was before, but now completely paralyzed and totally helpless.

Rachel stared at the scene for a second before turning tail and running after the other marines- quickly catching up to them as they ran full speed towards the buildings just past the training ground. Unfortunately, as fast as they were, the speed with which the mysterious gas seemed to move outpaced them. All around her, men and women either seized up and fell to the ground or simply collapsed, frozen in the stance they had been caught in in the moment. The legs of one of the petty officers next to her immediately crumpled; she briefly caught hold of his hand, seeing the pleading, helpless look frozen on his face before falling to the field. As hard as it was, she forced herself to let go of his hand and keep running. The base's main building was just ahead; it could be reached within half a minute if she could just get there in time…

Her foot at that moment suddenly stepped on a patch of slick grass; she stumbled for a brief second and then fell, rolling over once and coming to a rest on her side facing the base. A second later, the substance swept over her body.

The scream in Rachel's throat barely squeaked out of her mouth before she felt her vocal cords immediately freeze up. Every single nerve and muscle in her body went numb and her entirely body tensed up. She tried to move something- anything- but it was hopeless.

Through her still mobile and conscious eyes, she watched helplessly as more of her fellow marines seized up and dropped; the gas-like substance overwhelming them- paralyzing them in their tracks.

Her eyes moved around frantically, trying to see what was going on, trying to find any sign of help or hope. All she could see were bodies lying on the ground.

Bodies- and the shadow of the ship darkening the area around her even more…

**NCIS**

The paralyzed body of a man leaning up against a crate on the edge of the field did not move as the balaclava-clad, dark combat suited figure carrying a scoped machine gun walked slowly passed him. The insignia on its right shoulder of two crossed flaming katanas meant nothing to most people, yet it was a symbol that would bring immediate recognition to those who recognized it.

The Blood Devil paused for a moment and watched several more of its compatriots walk passed it, two carrying a large human-sized case in the direction of the base's main complex area; the gaseous paralytic substance in the air not affecting any of them in the slightest. It watched a moment before turning its attention to the left- towards the massive black ship that was parked just off-base past the training field. The whole ship seemed to be the centre of the dark and foreboding atmosphere that had surrounded the entire area over the base. Dark grey clouds that almost completely blocked out the setting sun appeared to surround the aircraft; rumbles on thunder and crackles of yellow electricity enveloped it, giving it a somewhat demonic look and feel.

The Blood Devil gazed up at the ship for a brief moment before slowly walking in the same direction as the others.

**NCIS**

The slim, petite Asiatic woman turned away from the screen she had been looking at towards the main computer hub at the far end of the slightly dark room. The light emanating from the screen reflected off her black leather outfit as her eyes narrowed slightly. With a few lithe steps, she crossed over to the main computer system; the massive screen over it was activated, showing the hidden-faced image of… _him_. Numerous other screens surrounded the sides and bottom of the main one, showing different viewpoints from the troops on the ground.

The Blood Devil Commander placed herself in front of the main screen, placing her hands on the panel just in front of her. She stared straight ahead, her eyes slowing sliding shut.

A voice radiated throughout the room- a voice that was deep, definitive and definitely _not_ feminine.

"_**Establishing connection**_**."**

The Commander's eyes snapped open and as they did, they changed. A bright blue light suddenly shone out from them- an overwhelming light that filled her eyes and illuminated the area in front of her...

**NCIS**

On the ground of the naval base, one of the Blood Devils suddenly began shaking; bright blue light began to fill its eyes and a matching aura seemed to surround it. In a move that would have shocked most outside observers, the Blood Devil _actually rose up_ in the air, looked straight up into the sky before bringing its arms and legs towards its chest and then snapping them back out, a bright blue aura surrounding its body as it dropped back down to the ground.

Nearby, Rachel could only watch in fear as she observed the glowing figure turn its attention towards her. As other Blood Devils moved around in the background, the one by her took a few steps in her direction, stood on the spot for a second staring down at her and then knelt by her side. As it did, she felt the ground rumble slightly, movement occurred out of the left portion of her line of sight and another wave of fear passed through her as she caught a glimpse of a large grey vehicle- almost like a miniature version of an armoured vehicle or tank without the large gun and with a thin strip of what appeared to be glass at the top of the front- rumbled by behind the Blood Devil.

**NCIS**

In the screen-filled room, the Commander's eyes burned bluer as she turned to the side and raised her right arm.

On the ground, the aura-surrounded Blood Devil stood up and turned to the right, raising its right arm. As it did, the deep voice spoke as though coming from the militant itself.

"_**We are the Tyrant that will ensure their perfection and stability**_**.**" The Blood Devil raised its other arm. "_**Arrange these Americans for departure.**_"

Another Blood Devil grabbed hold of Rachel's arms and started pulling her across the grass towards an empty case as the glowing troop began walking in the opposite direction. She felt herself being dragged by the wrists by a strong pair of hands; she felt herself being lifted up off the ground, unable to move anything except her eyes. She watched in fear as she was placed inside of a transparent case; she felt her heart begin to pound as the lid was closed, just millimetres away from her nose.

The case began to move across the field in the direction of the large aircraft. The dark clouds and crackles of electricity still surrounded it, giving it a very demonic appearance. It was as if all the darkness and foreboding in the area was centred around that one ship.

As the case moved towards it, Rachel's eye caught something moving in the far right sky. Just behind the veil of dark cloud, something seemed to flash past heading in the direction of the opposite side of the base. An image that was very brief and faint, yet also seemed to shine through the darkness that had enveloped the whole base.

It had looked vaguely like a large fighter jet.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**I'm sorry if this seemed a little slow, but I thought this chapter deserved its own sense of foreboding. I promise that the next two chapters will be ACTION PACKED!**


	26. A Direct Connection

_**Day 3: Camp Jefferson- US Naval Base; south-western Virginia, United States, 17:58 EST**_

The small unmanned shuttle, a van-sized steel rectangular vehicle built for slow descent and with the carrying capacity for a dozen, came to a halt at the rear end of the base just a little ways past the entrance. There was a click of locks being released and the entire side of the shuttle facing towards the base swung upwards and open. Gibbs exited first carrying an M-16, followed by Tony with the same type of weapon and Giguère, who was clutching the same silver handgun he had when Gibbs had first encountered him at the CIA headquarters in Langley. Gage was the last, the ground making an audible thump as the massive black soldier hopped off the shuttle. The South African clearly liked to match his superior size and abilities with some heavy artillery; he carried an R4 assault rifle in his hands and had a Mossberg 590 shotgun slung over his shoulder. The only time he had hesitated was when he had to decide which one of the weapons to use first.

The shuttle immediately lifted upwards again and began its automatic ascent back to the _NCIS_. Gibbs had expressed concern that such a sizable plane would attract too much attention if it got too close to the base, putting the marines down there in even more trouble than they already were. Stephanie had recommended the use of the automated drop-shuttle located in the cargo hold of the _NCIS_; quick, quiet and able to get them down to the ground with a minimal chance of being detected too early.

Gibbs stared up at the area of sky just in front of them; the grey clouds were casting a definite dark shadow over the base- not very dark, but enough to give the atmosphere a certain chill. They all seemed to be centred around the giant aircraft that was parked on the other side of the base- most likely just inland from the sea. Observing the plane in question, Gibbs noticed that it was of the same shape and colour of the one that had attacked them at Camp Barry, but he had made a serious miscalculation about its size. The ship was larger than his original estimate of that of a 747- _much_ larger. In fact it had to be at least three times the size of his original estimate. Gibbs had never seen any aircraft that huge. It was almost as if the thing had been pulled right out of a science fiction movie- or whatever kind of films involved giant airplanes.

Suppressing that thought in his mind, the team leader clutched his assault rifle and made sure the safety was off. As he did, he could faintly see in the foreground the air waving slightly, spread over the grounds of the base, like it was being heated from underneath. The ex-marine recalled footage from Camp Barry and another thought entered his mind. "Giguère," he called back, passing his eyes over the immediate area to check for any threats, "you _sure_ those injections will protect us from the nerve toxin?"

"It is impossible to be completely certain," the Frenchman responded, "But in relatively limited exposure, the counter-measure should bond with inhaled gas and prevent it from attacking the central nervous system- in theory."

"In _theory_?" Tony turned incredulously towards the scientist. "You're not inspiring my confidence, doc."

"It is an experimental design. The only way to test its effectiveness is direct contact with the nerve toxin. A sign of a successful test will be if we all survive." He paused for breath, inhaling audibly before adding with a touch of relish, "Should be exciting!"

"At any rate, it ought to be a good fight!" Gage declared, grinning from ear to ear.

"A good fight? Is that _all_ you can think about?" Tony asked the South African. "We have a situation here and that's the biggest thing on your mind?"

"I fight- doesn't matter who for." Gage shrugged. "Not yet anyway."

"That's real reassuring." The ex-cop muttered.

"Enough speeches." Gibbs interrupted the exchange. "Everyone move out."

There were no objections or further comments out of the group as Gibbs led them forward. The entrance to the base led to a large open area surrounded by various buildings. Large steel crates were scattered all throughout the area, as well as what appeared to be large cases similar to the ones seen in the surveillance footage at Camp Barry that the Blood Devils had put the paralyzed base personnel in for transportation aboard their aircraft. On the far side of the square, Gibbs could see a small path leading between two of the buildings in the direction of the other side of the base.

"Boss, these cases." Tony's voice broke the silence as they slowly advanced onto the scene.

"I know, DiNozzo. They're the ones the Blood Devils used at the other base." Gibbs replied, staring at the gigantic aircraft. All around him, the ex-marine could feel the change in atmosphere as the paralytic gas enveloped him. He wasn't feeling his muscles lose their use yet, which meant that Giguère's countermeasure was working- for now at least. "Gotta mean that they're still here. And they likely haven't taken all of the marines yet."

"Well, that's a good thing then, right? It's not too late to…"

Gibbs, who spotted a flash of movement from behind one of the crates on the far side of the square, shouted, "Look out!"

Out of either instinct or training, the four men dove forward, ducking behind crates of their own. A second later, a hail of gunfire echoed throughout the plaza followed by the sound of bullets clinking off metal right by their heads. Barely five seconds after that, a lot more gunfire echoed throughout the area and the bullets ricocheting off the crates increased tenfold.

"Well," Tony shouted over the din, "I guess simply talking them into surrendering peacefully isn't an option anymore!" The ex-cop was crouched behind a crate in the centre of the square along with Giguère. Gibbs had ducked behind his own one to the right of the two while on Tony's other side the team leader could make out Gage's massive bulk pressed against an especially large crate.

"Gotta be sentries guarding the entrance." Gibbs called back. _Some damn aggressive sentries- doubt they'll go down easy_. Using extreme caution, the ex-marine peered around the crate to get a look at the battlefield. He could see various balaclava-clad, dark combat-suited figures taking cover behind several crates and immediately noticed a pattern; every time a few of them ducked down, presumably to reload their weapons, the rest of them would lay down heavy fire on Gibbs' squad and keep them pinned down. _Smart strategy_, the ex-sniper thought. _Exactly the kind that I'd use_. In between these rotations, Gibbs did a quick assessment and counted six troopers.

"Gotta be at least half a dozen." Gibbs called out. "Try to pick them off without getting killed!" Without waiting for a response, he quickly moved to the other side of the crate, took as best aim as he could with his assault rifle and fired. His quick shots caught a Blood Devil on the far right side in the shoulder, causing it to stagger out of its position of cover. Gibbs fired another burst and hit it square in the chest, putting it down for good. At the same time, Tony finished off one in the centre and hit another in the arm just a few metres away; the momentary hesitation on the Blood Devil's part caused it to stand out of cover, and Giguère quickly finished it off with a headshot from his pistol.

Changing magazines from behind cover, Tony turned his attention over to the crate that shielded Gage from the heavy fire. Snapping the ammo clip into his weapon, he watched as the South African rose and sent a spray of bullets from his assault rifle at the enemy; one Blood Devil caught in the open went flying backwards as its torso was peppered with rounds. The remaining two Blood Devils seemed to recognize him as a major threat and focused their fire on him. Tony watched the black soldier almost in a state of envy; along with his thick combat suit, his huge stature and advanced regeneration allowed him to take more fire than any of the other three combined and survive wounds that would likely kill any other human. Gage allowed the bullet-proof vest to absorb several rounds before dropping back down; the two militants, temporarily forgetting that they were out in the open, were immediately gunned down by Gibbs and Giguère.

Taking a moment to ensure that all hostiles were indeed dead, Gibbs carefully stepped out and walked to the other end of the square. When he saw that the area was clear, he waved the others to come join him.

"_Attendez une minute._" Giguère said, jogging up towards the door of one of the buildings lining the square. "It is necessary to check the level of security still available to the base. Must examine it." He bent down beside the door and examined the electronic lock on it. For a few moments, he remained like that before standing up. "Very intriguing. Security systems seem to be completely disabled. Door locks, back-ups systems, all completely destroyed." He paused for breath. "Most unusual."

"Hardly unusual." Gibbs replied. "The security systems were all down at the other bases as well. McGee said it might be the result of some EMP pulse or something that hits the whole base at once or something like that. Would leave the base vulnerable to an attack."

"Indeed." The former DGSE operative agreed. "I am by no means an expert in technology, but that seems rational. Will have to defer observations to Agent McGee after the mission is complete. But it is likely that all buildings on the base will have suffered similar short-outs and will be inaccessible."

"We're wasting time." Gage argued. "There has to be more action to be had around here! That was barely a fight!"

"You'll have your chance to fight, don't worry." Gibbs responded, grasping his weapon. "Let's keep moving."

The four men led by Gibbs moved towards the far left corner of the square, where the path cutting through a couple of buildings lay. Gibbs led the way as they made their way down it, weapons at the ready. The path was about fifty yards long; at about the forty yard mark, Gibbs noticed something on the ground. As they drew closer, Gibbs could tell clearly what it was; a human body.

"Dead body. One moment." Giguère moved and knelt beside the figure while the other three kept a watchful eye out for any trouble. The figure on the ground was a blond male dressed in civilian clothing, his eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth wide open and his skin an unhealthy grey colour. Whoever the poor bastard was, Gibbs thought to himself, he definitely was not a marine.

Giguère seemed to have the same idea. "Civilian clothes. Not marine or Blood Devil. Unlikely to be innocent bystander- too high level security on base. Skin tone, pupil size suggests introduction of drugs. Possible interference with genetic code- mental capacity likely greatly diminished as well." The Frenchman stood up and looked at Gibbs. "It is possible that the Blood Devils are responsible; experiments on civilians not above their capabilities."

Tony stared at Giguère. "Experiments? What the hell were they doing, experimenting on people?"

"Possibly using them as distraction." Giguère replied. "Or programming them to act as a weapon; mindless shells that attack on sight. I cannot say for certain but it is irrelevant right now."

"Bet they still die if you shoot 'em." Gage liberally pointed out.

Looking at the body on the ground, Gibbs felt a sense of anger rise up into him. "The Blood Devils aren't going to get away with any more victims." He said firmly. "Let's get to the other side and clear them out."

Tony gripped his rifle with a new sense of strength and assuredness. "On your six, boss." He said firmly, nodding. Giguère and Gage also raised their weapons affirmatively as Gibbs led them along the rest of the path and around the next corner.

The area past the corner was very much like the entrance of the base; it was large and lined with various single-floor structures, likely bunks and the mess hall. More metal crates scattered the ground and along with them were more of the cases used to transport the paralyzed marines, all of them empty. Seeing something strange in the near distance, Gibbs took a step closer to take a look; about twenty yards away, he could make out the shapes of several people, some on the ground and some standing up. All of them were dressed in marine wear and none of them were moving.

Nearby, Tony bent over a young male who was lying on the ground, a fearful expression plastered on his clean-cut face. "He's been affected by the gas, boss. It's almost like some type of stasis field." He murmured, examining the paralyzed marine. "Leaves victims helpless, yet fully aware."

"It is very likely they have been in this state for a while." Giguère said, partly to himself. "Our intervention was timely."

Gibbs' gut gave a slight twist as he heard something on the far side of the area; something along the lines of- faint clicking sounds.

"Maybe a little too timely for some people…"

The words were barely out his mouth when there a sudden and drastic flurry of movement near the other end of the area. A group of at least seven Blood Devils had come racing in from both sides to form a defensive line near the back area. All of them stood their ground, eyeing Gibbs' squad- examining each member individually while passing their weapons sights over them…

**NCIS**

In front of the main terminal, the Blood Devil Commander observed the individual small screens. She watched as the viewpoints shifted among the faces of the newly arrived squad. The screens passed over the young man; the man with the dark jacket; the massive black soldier-

And then it passed over the face of the older man with the formidable look and piercing eyes.

The Commander's eyes immediately began to glow bright blue…

**NCIS**

On the ground, one of the Blood Devils took a few stumbling steps forward and suddenly began to shake. A bright blue light began being emitted from its eyes; it lifted itself up off the ground and stared up at the sky.

"_**I am establishing a direct connection.**_"

A bright blue aura surrounded the Blood Devil as it came back down to the ground. Its bright blue eyes now focused immediately on the spot where Gibbs was standing. With one fluid motion, it had lifted up its weapon- a large dark one in the shape of an assault rifle but with the size of a mini-gun- and fired at Gibbs; there was a whining sound as a thin yellow beam, very similar to the one fired by the Blood Devil ship at Camp Barry, zoomed out of the barrel. The ex-marine barely had the time to duck behind a crate; he could hear the sizzling sound as the hot beam connected with the top of the crate, mere inches from his head. Over the whine, he could hear the deep voice radiate over the entire area, as though coming from some kind of giant speaker.

"_**Stop Gibbs.**_"

"Gee, boss," Tony called from his place of concealment, "I know you've made some enemies over the years, but this is a bit much even for you!"

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs growled over the din, trying to send a death glare at the senior field agent and keep his head down at the same time.

"Got it, boss. Focus fire!" The ex-cop shouted out. As one, Tony and Gage both rose and fired on the glowing Blood Devil; the bullets seemed to hit their target but unlike their previous enemies, this one seemed relatively unaffected by the ammunition. It merely ignored the two and continued to focus its attention on Gibbs' place of concealment. The other Blood Devils, however, took notice of the attack, and Tony and Gage were forced to duck back down as a hailstorm of bullets perforated their places of cover.

Behind his own crate slightly ahead of the others, Giguère peered around his place of concealment to observe the situation. All of the team was being pinned down by heavy fire by the well-protected shock troopers, while the glowing Blood Devil, who almost seemed to be _possessed_ by something else- something _stronger_, was keeping up a steady stream of fire from what looked to be some kind of beam weapon- a type of weapon he had not even _heard_ about in his entire life. On top of that, the enemy in question appeared to be surrounded by some type of blue aura, which gave its body extra protection from their conventional attacks.

_Situation outcome not promising_.

In a flash decision, the Frenchman hopped out to the side of the crate and fired several rapid-fire, precise shots right at the head of the glowing Blood Devil, hoping that some conventional firepower directly to a known kill spot would finish the enemy off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten how many bullets were left in the magazine of his pistol and let out a frustrated cry as the hammer clicked harmlessly after only three shots. In the five seconds it took him to eject the mag from his weapon and jam a new one into it, the possessed Blood Devil had discovered where he was. As Giguère looked up, he was caught off guard as the Blood Devil had quickly moved across to his position and tackled the Frenchman, holding him down by the throat to the ground and sending his pistol flying out of reach.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Giguère stared up into the endless depths of the blue glow emanating from the militant's eyes. He grabbed hold off the Blood Devil's forearm in an effort to pry it off his throat, but the trooper's strength was unparalleled; the professor couldn't budge it an inch. As he looked into the depths of the Blood Devil's glow, he felt his own vision swim and darkness appear around the edges.

The sound of gunfire from the left interrupted the exchange; Giguère felt the pressure lessen as the Blood Devil turned in the same direction towards the sound of the distraction, and Giguère followed its line of sight; Gibbs, no longer under threat of having his head taken off by the yellow beam, had risen up and blasted a nearby Blood Devil with a rapid burst of gunfire. Gage and Tony followed suite and finished off two more Blood Devils. The distraction had caused the possessed trooper's attention to be taken off of Giguère, and that was all the time the Frenchman needed; quickly pulling his serrated knife from his belt, he slashed the underside of the forearm holding him to the ground. As the Blood Devil's grasp on his throat released itself, Giguère pulled himself forward and slashed the Achilles tendon on the militant's right heel, spilling a mysterious blue substance on the ground; the Blood Devil gave no indication of pain, but it did stumble forward and land on its knees on the ground. That was all the time Giguère needed to grab hold of his pistol and ram it right up against its face.

"Here." Giguère growled coldly. "Enjoy!"

He pulled the trigger. The Blood Devil's head disintegrated in a flash of black. The blue aura faded as the body crumpled onto the ground. Around the area, the deep voice spoke again.

"_**Terminating connection with this form.**_"

"Thought I was harmless, did you?" Giguère declared to the prostrate figure. He stood up, looking down at the body of the headless Blood Devil. _Fascinating. No signs of regular blood, no trace of afflicted head. Intriguing. Wonder what technology could have caused…_

"Giguère, look out!"

Tony's voice pulled the Frenchman out of his thoughts; as he looked up he observed the three remaining Blood Devils all grouped together about ten feet away from him. The militants were raising their weapons towards his exposed form and even as he automatically raised his weapon up to defend himself, he knew he would never be able to take them all down in time. His years spent in the DGSE had honed his reflexes quite nicely but even those couldn't help him take down three enemies with automatic weapons at the same time; the odds were simply too great. They would fire on him in a second, and then-

"THIS. IS. _SOUTH AFRICA!_"

What could only be described a giant blur moved past Giguère, and as Gibbs turned startled towards the form, he realized that it was none other than Gage; the black soldier was charging headlong into the trio of Blood Devils in the position of an NFL linebacker, his head lowered and his shoulders out front, slinging his assault rifle onto his shoulder and switching to his shotgun. The Blood Devils noticed this and turned their weapons on him, but the South African seemed barely affected by the rapid-fire rounds. He slammed into all of them, sending the Blood Devils flying through the air and crashing heavily to the ground. In a flash he had fired shells into the bodies of two of the troopers; the third began to push itself back up on its hands, only for Gage to bring his massive foot down on the Blood Devil's back and force it back onto the ground. The South African put his shotgun to the back of its head and pulled the trigger; a spray of blue liquid and matter erupted out of the Blood Devil's head and it lay still.

"Hah!" Gage looked up, a massive grin on his face. "Now it's getting fun!"

There was stunned silence as the group surveyed the carnage which had played out directly in front of them.

It was Tony's voice that finally broke it after a moment. "You know, this reminds me of a movie…"

"Don't. Even. _Say_ it, DiNozzo."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback/constructive criticism!**

**Plenty more action in the following chapter!**


	27. Lost Comrades

_**Day 3: Camp Jefferson- US Naval Base; south-western Virginia, United States, 18:15 EST**_

The minor battles which the squad had run into throughout the base had slowed their progress towards reaching the other end- the end which was the closest to where the Blood Devil aircraft was parked. By the time they had cleared out the defenders, Gibbs knew they had lost valuable time, which is why that immediately following Tony's narrow escape from a head-slap for his _300_ reference, the team leader ordered the squad to fall in and make their way down the walkway that cut between a couple of the buildings right towards the training field; if the schematics he'd seen were right, the field was right on the edge of the part of the base right by the sea. If any of the marines hadn't yet been transferred onto the Blood Devil aircraft, that's where they'd be.

As the group moved forward, Gibbs automatically reflected on the performance he had seen out of his squad; Tony, despite his somewhat childish nature, was on top of his game as always and Gibbs trusted him completely to have his back when things got rough; he admitted to himself that Giguère's field skills were well-honed, despite his earlier apprehensions about the professor's abilities- the Frenchman had shown a somewhat ruthless streak that, while Gibbs couldn't say he was surprised at, had gotten him out of a near-death situation. That, the ex-marine thought, had been impressive. As far as Gage went, well- the South African was a tank, there was no doubt about that. Gibbs just hoped it was a tank that wasn't going to be running over everyone in its path- including his fellow teammates.

The path itself was very straightforward, barely thirty yards long; after a few moments of quick but careful travel, the four men arrived at the end, and it was here that Gibbs realized that they had reached their destination. The training field was a standard naval base one, and like all the other open spaces they had come across this one was littered with large objects. Unlike the others, there were relatively few metal crates lying about; however, what there _were_ more of were the Blood Devils' human-sized cases- some standing up, most lying down on the ground, and all of them empty. There was no sign of any base personnel or anyone else though. The unpleasant feeling in Gibbs' gut apparently resonated within the rest of the team as well.

"I figured we'd have seen more of those frozen marines over here." Gage remarked. "Where'd they all go?"

"Most likely they have been transported aboard the Blood Devil ship." Giguère answered, scanning the field for threats. "We must make haste if we wish to stop them."

"How are we going to do that?" Tony asked pointing a finger at the large plane parked just past the security wall. "We don't have the firepower to storm a plane that size. And even if we did, what's to say the marines aren't already…"

"Quiet!" Gibbs said suddenly. The ex-cop abruptly stopped talking and watched as Gibbs looked around the field, his eyes unblinking. Instinctively, Tony tweaked his ears and tried to pick up on what the senior agent had picked up on. For a moment there was absolute silence in the air.

Then Gibbs' head jerked to the left as a strange sound- which he would describe as being a cross between a large moan and a gasp for air- filled the area just in front of them. The ex-marine's assault rifle went up the second he spotted movement to the left from behind a steel crate. A second later, there was a bur of movement as a young man wearing civilian clothing came barrelling out from behind it and headed straight towards the group.

Gibbs, keeping his weapon on the target, shouted out, "Freeze! Don't move!"

The man ignored him, but even at a distance, Gibbs could tell something was wrong with him; his eyes were rolled back in his head and his skin was unnaturally grey. He ran with a lopsided manner, arms stretched out greedily as if coming in to strangle the one in its sights…

"Hostile incoming!" Giguère dropped to one knee, took aim with his pistol and fired. The bullet struck the man right in the centre of the pain, dropping him on the spot.

Gibbs turned towards the Frenchman. "What the hell was that about?" He shouted. "He was unarmed! I could have taken him down without killing him!"

"The subject indicated hostile activity. He had the same physical attributes as the previous civilian that we found. Behaviour suggested lack of mental capacity; possibly due to brainwashing or other experiments. Likely he was brought here on the Blood Devil ship to act as distraction. They…"

"Look out!" Tony's cry brought Gibbs' attention from Giguère's explanation to the right; several more people dressed in civilian clothing, both men and women, were charging out from behind places of concealment directly towards the group, arms outstretched in front of them.

Gibbs swore. "God_dammit_! Open fire on all hostiles! Open fire!"

The other three obliged and the team immediately turned their guns upon the charging figures. Gibbs felt a brief moment of hesitation before he pulled the trigger; his years in the USMC had taught him to never fire on unarmed individuals, but then he remembered that that rule only applied when the individual in question was not charging straight at you with a clearly hostile purpose and had the mental capacity to differentiate right from wrong, regardless of whether or not they were armed. It was fair to say to that neither of those principles applied in this case. Shaking off his hesitation, the ex-marine unleashed a burst of fire at the man in the front of the pack, riddling his chest with bullets and dropping him on the spot.

On the left, Tony and Giguère unleashed their own attacks on the hostiles; the Frenchman mainly picking them off with accurate headshots from mid-range with his pistol, while the ex-cop was unleashing short bursts from his assault rifle at the attackers, his face tight with concentration as he struck down hostile after hostile. On the right, the sounds of _BAM, BAM, BAM _echoed throughout the area as Gage blew attacker after attacker away with his shotgun, a delighted grin covering his face. One hostile managed to get right up close to the group in the midst of all the confusion and struck Tony heavily with his arm, sending the senior field agent tumbling to ground. As the attacker moved in to finish the job, Gage whirled and rammed the butt of the weapon into his torso, shattering at least half a dozen ribs. The blow didn't seem to cause the man any physical pain, but it did cause him to double over. As he let out another gasping moan and looked up with bloodshot wild eyes, the South African put the shotgun right up against his face and fired, taking the hostile's head clean off his shoulders; his body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Gibbs finished off the group with a burst to the chest of a crazed young woman before turning to look at the senior field agent on the ground. Staring at him for a moment, he then offered his hand. Tony, grabbing hold of his weapon, gratefully took it.

"Uh, thanks boss." The ex-cop said rather sheepishly.

"I'm not the one you should be thanking, DiNozzo." Gibbs replied, shifting his weapon to the other hand.

"Ah, right." Tony turned towards the South African. "Thanks, Gage." He amended.

"Hah! Just make sure you don't let that too often." The super soldier replied. "Keep your back to your enemy and don't be surprised if they ram their blade into your heart through it."

"I'll… try to remember that."

"Do that, Tony." Gibbs said, taking a few tentative steps forward. The others followed him, with Tony taking the lead.

"What the hell happened to those people?" The ex-cop asked out loud. "I mean, they looked like regular civilians, but something's gotta have happened to them. They were acting like the Infected from _28 Days Later_. Or the Darkseekers from _I am Legend_. What did the Blood Devils _do_ to them?"

"Impossible to say without further testing." Giguère responded. "It is likely the result of some type of experimental biological mutation. Physical attributes noticeably altered; mental capacity likely significantly reduced as well. I cannot say for sure without proper testing; that must wait until this mission is complete."

"Okay, so what's the next step? I doubt the Blood Devils are just going to hand all the base personnel back if we go up to their ship and ask nicely."

"And it would be a hell of fight if we just stormed them, but not if we get cut down before the fun starts." Gage stated in a surprisingly wise fashion.

Gibbs' eyes searched the training field, looking for an answer as to what to do next. His gaze promptly halted as they settled on something unusual but intriguing; on either side of the field, just by the perimeter security wall, were dual defence turrets, similar to those found on the decks of battleships, at least fifteen feet high and made of black steel. The turrets were both pointed on a diagonal slant towards the sky, but both of them seemed to be offline and non-operational. An idea pushed itself to the front of the team leader's mind...

Tony followed his gaze and looked at the ex-marine. "Boss?"

"Those look like an advanced groundside version of an anti-ballistic missile turret." Gibbs said, partly to himself. "My guess is that they were placed there as a show of force- possibly in response to the disappearances at the other bases. Meant to keep hostile ships and planes away."

"Yeah well, that didn't work out too well." Tony replied.

"Not at the beginning, no; if the Blood Devils hit this base with an EMP pulse or whatever it's called before the strike, they would have neutralized all the defences on this base- kept them from interrupting their attack." Gibbs pointed at the turret on the left side of the field. "If we get those turrets working again, we could use them against the Blood Devil ship."

"The situation is most difficult." Giguère replied, stepping up to the team leader's side. "Fixing defence systems would require precise knowledge of hacking and repair processes. I am unfortunately lacking this particular skill myself."

"We could just rip the turrets open and shoot them." Gage suggested.

"Yes well, I would not recommend that. Blunt force trauma would likely cause more harm than good." He paused and inhaled audibly. "Probable outcomes not helpful- likely would be very messy. We would need someone who is more _au courant_ about technical processes."

"Great." Tony muttered. "Where's McGee when you need him?"

Any further debate and conversation was cut off as everyone's earpiece crackled to life and McCrae's voice came through. "…_repeat: _NCIS_ to shore party, are you there? _NCIS_ to shore party, can you read me?_"

Gibbs responded. "I'm here, McCrae- what's the situation?"

"'_Bout damn time! Phew! It took Abby forever to hack through their radio blockers! The Blood Devil ship must have some kind of jamming device activated. We've been trying for the last fifteen minutes to find a frequency that's more than just static. The signal's weak right now but we got you. I'm guessing this is the reason no distress signals are ever sent out from the bases._"

"At least part of the reason, but that's not important right now." Gibbs replied. "We've gotten through to the end of the base with numerous encounters with Blood Devils; I'm guessing a very small portion of their total forces. Initial estimates are that they've taken the majority of the base personnel already. There's also evidence they may have previously abducted civilians and somehow forced or 'programmed' them to attack on sight."

"_Christ, that's a way to get me not to like them. What about Agent Fornell?_"

Gibbs hesitated a moment before answering. "Negative contact." He said with a twinge of regret. "It's most likely he's already been taken aboard the ship along with the rest of the navy personnel; we got here too late."

"_Now I _really _don't like them. What's your plan, Gibbs?_"

"Time to show these sons of bitches we give as good as we get." Gibbs said in a low but very strong voice. "The base has anti-aircraft turrets stationed at our location. Abby- bring them online and target the Blood Devil ship."

"_I've got a visual on their calibration system._" The Goth replied. "_The Blood Devils may have hit the base with an EMP pulse to fry their systems but it looks like the defence systems only got partially damaged- probably due to more advanced security. I can repair the damage done to the turrets' calibration software but it's going to take a few minutes to bring them to full power._"

"_How_ many minutes, Abs?"

"_Several, okay? These things aren't meant to cracked and interfered with by an outsider. The more time we waste, the longer it's gonna take. And there's something else you should know._"

"What's that?"

"_You're gonna want to be on your guard for the time it's powering up; the generator output these things will emit is gonna be _massive_! There's no way I'm gonna be able to hide that much emission from any sensors they have._"

"Which means every damn Blood Devil in our radius is going to know exactly where we are." Tony finished. "That's real reassuring."

Gibbs sighed. "Work as quick as you can, Abby. I don't know how many reinforcements they're gonna send in. Get those turrets online as fast as possible." He signed off.

"What is the current plan?" Giguère asked.

"We hold this position until the defence towers come online." The ex-marine replied. "Until then, you can bet your asses the Blood Devils will try to overrun us. We have to make sure they don't…"

"_**This requires direct intervention.**_"

"_Dammit_!" Gibbs bellowed. "Get down!" The four men flung themselves behind a nearby upturned Blood Devil case; a second later there was the sound of whining as another yellow beam streaked past, nearly taking Gibbs' head off. The team leader peered out from behind the case and saw several Blood Devils enter the area from the far side- one of them glowing blue and wielding its beam weapon.

"Reinforcements. Nice to be noticed." Tony snuck a peak over the top of the case to see what was happening. "Hostiles in the open!"

"Yeah DiNozzo, I figured that out already!" Gibbs heard a break in the fire and rose up just enough to give himself a good shot of the whole field. One Blood Devil was cut down by the ex-marine's fire before it could get to cover, but the magazine soon ran out just as he was targeting another one. A targeted bullet caught him in his protected upper chest, causing him to fall backwards; Tony quickly gunned down the offending militant. A Blood Devil who got too close was promptly blown clean off its feet courtesy of Gage and his shotgun; on his other side, Giguère shot another one in the kneecap, causing it to crumple forward and drop its weapon. A second shot directly to the side of its head soon put it down.

"You alright, boss?" Tony called out as the team leader got back up against the case.

"How many hostiles left?" Gibbs said, ignoring the question.

"Just one." Giguère answered, reloading his pistol. "However, I recommend caution; sole remaining enemy is the one who appears to be possessed. Its abilities appear to be much greater than that of normal Blood Devils. I recommend…"

The case was abruptly rocked by a small explosion on the other side; Tony staggered and nearly fell back onto the ground, saved only by Gibbs grabbing hold of his arm and hauling back up.

"_**You **_**will **_**know and fear me, Gibbs.**_"

"Great, now he's bringing out the heavy stuff." Tony muttered.

"_Attention!_" Giguère said in French. "Blood Devil appears to be able to concentrate limited amounts of energy into small bursts; it has apparent explosive capabilities!"

"Oh, that's just _great_!" Tony shouted, and the ex-cop ducked his head down another yellow stream streaked by millimetres from the top of his head. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

Gibbs' frustrated response was cut off by Abby's voice in their ear. "_Reconstruction of the errors in the defence system's calibration software is complete! Sequential back-up power has been initiated. Anti-ship turret batteries are at 40%_."

"Almost halfway there. That's comforting to know." Tony popped up for a second and fired a burst at the Blood Devil before abruptly ducking back down. "Oh _shit_! That thing's advancing on us, boss! It's getting closer!"

"How much closer?"

"Ten yards at most! I don't know how much more this case is gonna hold up!"

Gibbs swore as he pressed himself further against their modified barricade, his mind working overtime to come up with a solution. The sizzle of the energy beam was burning across the top of the case just above their heads; one false move or bad decision and they would be indefinitely screwed.

"_**You will understand what true pain is-"**_

The possessed Blood Devil suddenly stumbled back as a shotgun spray blasted it right in its chest; it staggered for a moment before catching its balance, but this had cost the militant valuable time. Gibbs stood up and fired a rapid burst into the Blood Devil's head, sending a spray of blue into the air; its body stood upright for a moment, motionless, before slowly falling backwards onto the ground, a stream of blue liquid leaking out of the wound.

"_**You have achieved nothing.**_"

Gage popped the shell out of his weapon. "Yeah? What are _you_ going to do about it?"

"The area appears to be clear." Giguère interjected, scanning the field attentively. Gibbs took a moment to check it for himself; when he was satisfied that there was no present danger, he moved up out of cover and took up position near the centre of the field. The others soon followed; Tony moved up to the team leader's side, while Gage and Giguère remained a few steps behind them, examining the area. Giguère turned towards the Blood Devil ship just beyond the security barricade.

"It would appear that they are not checking to whether their reinforcements have succeeded or failed." The Frenchman remarked. "Somewhat surprising. Perhaps they do not believe that others are capable of defeating them." He paused for breath. "Very interesting."

Gage chuckled. "Obviously they haven't encountered a true group of warriors yet. They are not weak, yet they choose weak enemies. Time someone showed them what a _real_ fight looked like!"

"_Turret batteries at 75%._" Abby's voice broke through again. "_Hold on there, guys! We're three quarters of the way there. I'm syncing the targeting protocols with the _NCIS's _systems. Just keep it together down there!_"

"No problem." Tony remarked, and for the first time since their arrival, the ex-cop had his signature flashbulb megawatt grin plastered on his face. "They already sent their reinforcements and we took care of them! What could possibly have been worse that a glowing, demonic-voiced militant?"

The brief flash of a shadow flying over them was the only warning they got; Gibbs' gut, fully tuned to any danger, immediately sensed danger and flung himself at Tony, sending both of them diving behind a nearby steel crate. A white hot arcing beam came down on the spot where the two men had been standing just a second earlier, shredding nearby crates and empty cases in its path.

"_Mon Dieu_!" Giguère exclaimed.

"At last!" Gage's delighted voice shouted out. "An enemy worth fighting!"

Looking up, Gibbs caught sight of a large mysterious vehicle hovering about twenty feet in the sky; it had an appearance very similar to that of an armoured combat vehicle but was completely armoured in grey steel, albeit for a small strip of glass at the top of the front; concentrating hard, Gibbs could make out a lone Blood Devil that seemed to be operating the vehicle. Though it had four tires, the vehicle was maintaining a steady hover just in front of them in the air; there were no visible propulsion systems or anything that seemed to be giving it its vertical thrust.

"You were saying, DiNozzo?" The ex-marine said, gazing up at the attacker.

Tony stared up at the vehicle with a look that ranged somewhere between disbelief and shock. "Me and my big mouth..."

"Abby- we need those turrets back online _now_." Gibbs spoke into his earpiece.

"_I'm doing the best I can to keep the Blood Devils out of the system. Between that and bringing the defence systems back, I'm a little busy here, Gibbs! I'm almost done- just hang in there!_"

As they stood watching, Gage switched back to his assault rifle and began taking shots at the attacker while Giguère did likewise with his pistol. The bullets clanging off the vehicle's armoured flank didn't seem to do any damage, but it sure as hell got the operator's attention; the vehicle turned back towards the pair and reared back. Over the shots being fired, Gibbs could hear a whirling sound being emitted from the vehicle.

"Get to cover!" He bellowed. "It's going for another strafing run!"

A bright white light appeared at the centre of the combat vehicle's front panel- the only visual warning that something was about to happen- before the attacker began unleashing its massive payload at the two newly-recruited members of Gibbs' team; Gage, in a surprising show of agility for a man of his size and stature, vaulted over a nearby crate and landed on the ground behind the attacking contraption. Giguère continued to fire shots at his pistol, concentrating on the glass right in front of where the Blood Devil was operating it; the rounds didn't so much as crack the glass and the Frenchman had to execute a spectacular sideways dive to avoid getting incinerated on the spot. Gibbs loaded a fresh clip into his weapon and fired a few shots at the hovering vehicle; they clanged noisily off its side.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I think you're going to have to do better than that, boss."

"You got any suggestions DiNozzo, I'm all ears." The team leader grunted in response.

"_Anti-ship batteries at 100%!_" Abby said excitedly. "_I have control; resetting the targeting coordinates._"

Over the sound of the armoured vehicle overhead, Gibbs could hear the charging up of systems on either side of him. Looking towards the turret on the left, he watched as the large gun, which was pointing directly at the sky, shifted and then started moving downwards. The team leader followed the gun's targeting line and observed that the direction it was moving was towards the Blood Devil plane outside the security wall.

"The vehicle does not appear to possess any significant weaknesses!" Giguère shouted from his place of concealment behind a monster-truck size tire used for drills a few metres away; the former DGSE agent had to shout to be heard over the whine of the white laser boring into the rubber inches from his body. "Glass in the front seems to be absolutely bullet proof; penetration unlikely!"

"We're going to need an alternative." Tony remarked, his jaw almost as tight as the grip on his weapon.

The turrets on the sides of the area came to a stop and locked onto their target- the Blood Devil ship. There was a slight pause, and then they charged up to life; their systems whirled to life, the sound becoming louder and louder steadily.

"_Firing anti-aircraft batteries at Blood Devil vessel._" Abby called, and with that statement the turrets came to full life; locked on the enemy ship, they reared back slightly and each unleashed a mid-sized targeted missile at it. The missiles crashed against the aircraft; though they didn't seem to do any physical damage, they did shake it and send it slightly off balance. The batteries reared up and fired again, rocking the Blood Devil plane even harder than the last time.

"Well that's something, at least." Tony ducked his head back down as another burst of white hot energy seared past him. The ex-cop quickly rolled over to the other side of the metal crate as the hovering armoured vehicle started moving to the side. "But we still got a bit of a problem here, boss."

Gibbs peered over the side of the crate and realized Tony was right; the vehicle was still fully operational and had them directly in its sights. _And_ they had no ways of putting it down with what they had; the plating and front window were impervious to any conventional fire, which meant that their weapons were useless against it. With no visible weaknesses and no weapons strong enough to take it out, the ex-marine had no idea of how they were going to-

"_I'll _put 'em down!"

Gibbs' view of the attacking vehicle was abruptly altered as a very large figure, which he quickly realized to be none other than Gage, _actually leapt up onto_ the vehicle- a jump of at least ten, probably fifteen feet- and grabbed hold the top of the vehicle's back end. Its attack abruptly ceased as it staggered in midair, rotating back and forth as the Blood Devil within it struggled for control, with the large South African hanging tightly onto it.

Gibbs stared at the spectacle in amazement. Behind him, Tony stood up and lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think some added weight is going to stop it." He said sceptically.

Giguère stood up from his place of cover and joined the other two; the three men watched wordlessly as the hovering attacker continued to swerve back and forth. In a remarkable show strength and agility, Gage hoisted himself onto the attacker's top, moved down towards the front and dropped down right in front of the viewing window while holding onto the top.

The Blood Devil inside seemed extremely surprised to see the massive black soldier hanging on right in front of it and it barely got the chance to react to the situation; a second later, Gage reared back and, in an act that shocked his teammates on the ground, slammed his huge fist _directly through_ the supposedly shatterproof glass, crushing the Blood Devil's face between flesh and steel.

Gibbs watched stunned as the South African abruptly jumped down to the ground; the armoured vehicle, with no one to operate it, swerved in midair before jetting down towards the right side of the training field. It slammed into the solid concrete fence and exploded in a hail of fire and smoke, sending chunks of metal flying everywhere. The mass of crumpled armour gave a final internal whirl before falling silent for good.

Tony stood wide-eyed at the scene. "But genetically advanced muscle _will_." His face lit up with a grin as he looked back towards Gibbs. "Nice!"

The team leader couldn't think of anything to say in response to that as Gage came striding back towards them. "Yeah!" The super soldier shouted back at the remains of the vehicle. "Right on your ass!" Turning towards Gibbs, he shot a delighted grin at the senior agent as he slung both his weapons. "Now _that_ is the type of fight worthy of a South African! You sure as hell pick good enemies, Gibbs."

The team leader raised an eyebrow. "So this means you won't be defecting any time soon?"

"Depends on how many of these fights you pick." The black soldier responded, shrugging his shoulders. "You keep this up and I might find a reason to stay."

"I'm glad." Gibbs responded coolly. "I'd hate to put down such a valuable and strong ally."

Whatever Gage's response may have been was interrupted by a loud roar past the far security wall. The four men turned and observed the massive Blood Devil jet lift up vertically off the ground. During the entire battle, the ground anti-aircraft batteries had kept up a steady stream of missile fire on the jet, rocking it back and forth and throwing it slightly off balance. Despite the lack of physical damage, it was clear that this was something that the Blood Devils had not expected. As the missiles continued to slam into the side, the ground shook and a blast of air swept over the training field, causing the team to temporarily duck down and shield their faces against the rush.

"They're pulling out!" Tony shouted.

A particularly hard hit on the left front flank rattled the jet as it lifted off directly into the air. Passing over the water as it turned itself around in midair, it sent a spray of sea water shooting directly upwards. The giant aircraft lifted up until it was about fifty feet above the ground; revving its engines it turned away from the base until it was facing directly out towards the sea. The roar grew temporarily louder as it flew off and upwards over the water, gaining height and speed as it zoomed away at surprising rate of speed over the Atlantic- away from their reach.

Giguère raised his pistol in the direction of the ship as it grew fainter and fainter on the horizon, ostensibly to try to stop it from getting away, when Tony put his hand on top of the weapon and shook his head in the Frenchman's direction. "Forget it. There's no way we're stopping them now; they're too far away."

"We cannot just allow them to escape!" The former DGSE agent retorted.

"There's no reason for them to stay; most of the marines are on board. They got what they came for."

His teeth gritting in frustration at Tony's words as he watched the Blood Devil ship become barely a spec on the horizon, Gibbs almost didn't hear the sound of hurried footsteps racing behind him. Whirling around, his weapon pointing in the same direction, he only relaxed when he saw the source of the noise was a young red-haired male in a naval training outfit. "No!" He shouted as he sped past Gibbs towards the security wall. "Don't let them get away!"

The ex-marine raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing we can do now." He replied. "They're long gone- there's no chance of catching up to them."

The young man stopped about fifteen feet away from the group; he clenched his fists and started pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "Half the naval base is in that ship!" He shouted in frustration. "They took Vince and Eddie and… and Rachel!" He turned wildly back to Gibbs. "_Do_ something!"

Ordinarily, Gibbs would've restrained his frustration with a marine over such a traumatic event happening to so many of his fellow trainees, but at that moment, the pressure stemming from the situation as a whole and what he had gone through to get to the end of the base instantly removed that restraint. "And just what the hell do you suggest we do?" He snapped. "Commandeer a destroyer and chase a fading smoke trail? I did what I could- didn't see _you_ doing a damn thing to help them!"

"I was stuck inside the mess hall, trying to avoid being abducted!" The man retorted angrily. "I don't have any weapons and people were dropping like flies just from being in the outside air! Not really a good move to go running at the heavily armed militants roaming around outside! Why the hell didn't you come sooner?"

Gage took a step forward. "Show some respect!" The South African all but growled, pointing a finger at the marine. "If it weren't for Gibbs, you'd _all_ be in that plane right now!"

"Gibbs?" The young man's expression turned into one of confusion as he looked back towards the silver-haired man. "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS?"

Gibbs' eyebrows narrowed. "That's right. How do _you_ know me?"

"Petty Officer First Class David Rosenberg." The man said, saluting the team leader. "And everyone around here knows you, sir. Or at least they would have after today."

"What do you mean?"

"News gets around, sir; especially when another naval base gets blown all the way to hell. We don't have much time for watching ZNN but you can't hide something that big. We kept hearing rumours that a famous former marine named Leroy Jethro Gibbs may have been killed on that base with his NCIS team- took it for granted. Then another federal agent came around earlier and threw out your name, saying it was possible that an attack on this base may be coming soon. And that you might not be dead after all, but were on your way here."

Gibbs' face remained largely impassive even though his gut gave an unwelcome clench; he had a bad feeling he felt he already knew the answer to his next question but he decided to ask it anyway. "What can you tell me about that federal agent? Is he still here?"

"Him? Nah. He was one of the first taken aboard when that ship landed outside the security wall. Gave a bit of fight though, sir; tried to fend off the plane with just a handgun. He wasn't a Navy agent though, Agent Gibbs; I'm almost certain he was with the FBI. Rachel… Petty Officer Marston called him Fornell."

A feeling passed through Gibbs' chest; a twinge of regret. Even though the two men never fully saw eye to eye, he still had a lot of respect for Fornell; like him or not, the man knew how to do his job. And Gibbs had to admit that they had worked well together on several occasions over the years. In his mind, Fornell's abduction was his fault; if he had only been quicker getting to the training field…

"What do you mean- 'saying that this base may be the next one to get hit?'" Tony asked.

"Agent Fornell said the FBI was aware of several incidents at other naval bases on the East Coast. He said they'd gotten a tip that this one might be the next one to get hit. He didn't say how they got it- only that they were following it up. But there was something else he said- something about how someone was also rumoured to be here as well- Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of Naval Criminal Investigative Services. He was looking for him- well, for _you_, sir."

"Hmm." Giguère murmured audibly. "Implications are unique. If FBI was aware of our impending arrival, it would indicate an exterior leak of information." He paused for breath. "Unexpected."

Rosenberg shrugged. "I don't know; he wouldn't give any specifics to any of us. He went with Petty Officer Marston out towards here to find the base commander when the whole place just went dark. Next thing I knew there were clouds of… _gas_ spreading around everywhere. I ran into the mess hall as fast as I could and sealed the door shut- one of the few that managed to get away. Everyone else just seemed to _collapse_. Then those… _things_, those militants came inside the base. I don't know what the hell they were, but they started loading everyone in these boxes and taking them away. I saw it all happen."

"And you hid like a weak link and let your group be taken?" Gage said rather pointedly.

"I don't even have a pistol! What was I supposed to do? Run out here and get myself killed or abducted?" The marine shook his head. "Besides, there were others in the mess hall- still are. Several of them look to be injured."

He turned back towards Gibbs. "I wish I could say I did more to help them, sir. I honestly do. But I couldn't."

He began to walk forward back in the direction he came. "The best thing I can do right now is help the ones that were left behind- like I was."

Gibbs watched his retreating form with a slightly grim expression for a moment- an expression that almost reflected guilt; guilt at having failed to save so many people. So many marines. He remembered what it had been for him when he was still in the active service. It was something he'd hope he never had to feel again.

The expression only lasted a brief second, and only Tony managed to catch a glimpse of it. Gibbs' expression turned back to one of serious business as he put his hand to his earpiece. "Abby- send the automated shuttle to come pick us up."

He stared straight ahead. "I've had enough of this damn base."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback/constructive criticism!**

**The next chapter or two is going to have a lot of character development! **


	28. No Guarantee

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 19:01 EST**_

The screen in the Communications Room lit up upon activation. On the other end, Gibbs observed Director Delcourt look up from his desk and stared directly at the ex-marine, his eyes almost as cool as his voice.

"Gibbs- good work at Camp Jefferson. Hopefully this will make the Blood Devils think twice before they attack another naval base anywhere."

Gibbs recalled the sense of loneliness and emptiness he had seen back at the base. It seemed to him to have been so deserted- so _devoid_ of any kind of human contact. Exuberating such darkness and foreboding. Taunting him- telling him that for every marine on the base left behind, there was one who had been abducted. It was almost like a direct attack on him- letting him know that he had failed.

"It's _not_ a victory." Gibbs replied, holding up a hand. "We interrupted the Blood Devils, but they still abducted half the personnel on the base; I don't count _that_ as a success."

"Half of a naval base is better than an entire naval base." Delcourt stated. "And more than we've accomplished since the abductions started. The Blood Devils will certainly change their strategy since they know now that we're onto them; they'll be more careful from now on- more cautious. But I think we'll be able to find another way to lure them in."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the CSIS director's words. "I spoke with a marine who survived the attack. He said that Agent Fornell claimed the FBI got a tip about me being alive and our pending arrival at Camp Jefferson." He stared at Delcourt unblinkingly. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The director's eyes held Gibbs' own as he took a sip from a glass of water. "I might have let it slip that you were alive- and working with CSIS."

Gibbs took a calculated step forward. "You risked the lives of my friend, my team and that _entire_ naval base- _just_ to lure the Blood Devils there?" He said with barely constrained anger.

"It was a calculated risk that needed to be taken." Delcourt replied coolly. "I suspected that the Blood Devils would be looking for you or people connected to you." He gave a slight nod. "Now that I know for certain, we can adjust our plans accordingly. I told you I wouldn't just sit and wait while the Blood Devils and their unknown masters gathered strength; because I made the choice that I did, we now have the knowledge that the Blood Devils seem to work for someone or something called Tyrant. I'd say that was justification enough, even if we know very little about Tyrant right now. Besides," he went on, "they would've hit another naval base eventually- _anywhere_ in the world; without a way to predict which one, they would've abducted _everyone _there."

"We have to make sure that no more bases get attacked." Gibbs said firmly. "Those marines that got taken were all good men and women- they deserved a hell of a lot better than they got."

"I want the Blood Devils stopped for that very reason, Gibbs." Delcourt responded. "That's why we're doing what we're doing. I'm diverting all the resources at my disposal to finding a way to locate their base of operations. We need to take the fight to them- hit them where they live. Your team will need to be strong," He straightened himself in his chair. "As will their focus, determination and resolve; there's no looking back at this point."

He stared at Gibbs. "The same goes for you as well. Can I assume that the loss of Agent Fornell will not affect your emotions and decisions for the rest of the mission?"

"Quit talking about him like he's already dead." Gibbs snapped. "If that was the case, we'd have found his body at the base; until I see it in person, he's still alive to me. Fornell's a good man and a damn fine agent; if there's any chance of getting him back, I'll do it. And it's none of your goddamn business to tell me what I should think and feel at any given time."

"If it affects your judgement and performance on this mission, it'd be better to put them to the side." Delcourt responded coolly. "I'm merely thinking about the greater good."

He drained his glass of water. "Gibbs, once you locate the Blood Devils' base of operations and find a way to actually get to it… there's no guarantee that you or any of your team will return…"

Gibbs raised another eyebrow, this one further. "Strange- I didn't get the memo that said this was likely to be a suicide mission. No one told me that I was likely leading not only my regular team but a group of relative strangers to their certain death."

"I told you near the beginning that no one had ever located the Blood Devil base and returned alive to tell about it." The director retorted. "It was hardly a secret as to what that implied. You're a former marine, Gibbs; you know that there is always a chance that a mission will end badly for you."

"Sacrificing my life is one thing, but those of my team members are a different story." Gibbs argued. "They have lives, Delcourt- families, friends, people who care about them. On top of that, I doubt that any of the people you're sending me to pick up out of the blue would appreciate being led straight to the slaughter. And don't give me any of that crap about danger being part of the job back at NCIS." He held up a hand as though to stave off any argument from the Canadian. "You weren't there to see it first hand; enforcing the Navy and being part of a military 'suicide squad' are as far apart as you can get. Most of my team members don't have formal military training- it's not what I demanded of them when I hired them."

"Your regular team members have worked alongside you for years, Gibbs; you know how they work, their strengths and weaknesses and how to utilize them. And more importantly, they trust you to do the right thing; there's no better alternative than that. In time, your new members will hopefully learn to do the same. Besides, every one of your team, both old and new, has already been informed of the likely outcome of the mission."

"What? You told them about that before you haven't even told me? Why did…"

Delcourt held up a hand to silence Gibbs' protests. "It was a decision that I didn't make lightly, let me assure you of that. Stephanie was under strict orders not to tell you or any of your team until I gave her the go-ahead; if you knew that it was a mission with such low survival odds earlier, you would've likely abandoned it the very same moment. I needed you to see the Blood Devils' capabilities up close; now that you have, you can appreciate the seriousness of situation."

"I can understand the situation's seriousness." Gibbs said heatedly. "But I don't appreciate me or my team being played like a bunch of pawns."

"You're going to have to get past your judgments for this mission, Gibbs; CSIS isn't as evil as you're making it out to be." The director leaned back in his chair. "You and I are on the same side- we just have different methods. Our goals are the same; to stop the Blood Devils from abducting naval bases across the world- in our countries and others. That's going to be a difficult task and this mission is one that doesn't have many possible positive outcomes. To have any hope of not only succeeding but surviving it, you- and your whole team- must be fully committed to this."

"Let me worry about my team." Gibbs responded. "You just find us a way to locate the Blood Devils' home base."

"I just want to be up front about your odds." Delcourt said. "You'll need every single member of your team at their best. Speaking of which, I've forwarded three more dossiers to you; three more elite specialists which can help you when the time comes to launch an assault on the Blood Devils. Keep building your team; I'll continue to search for a way to locate the Blood Devils' home base. I suggest you also make use of any of the resources you found at the base; if anything can be used against them in the future, it would most likely be their own designs. Don't let an opportunity like that slip by, if possible."

He looked at the ex-marine straight in the eye. "And be careful, Gibbs." He said in a calm yet surprisingly strong voice. "The Blood Devils will certainly be watching you…"

**NCIS**

Nigel stood by the doorway as the screen clicked off, arms crossed and a serious expression on his face. Gibbs turned around and walked to just in front of the door, facing the man directly.

"I guess we're really going to do it." The Australian said. "Hit the Blood Devil base when we find it- take the fight right to their doorstep. I'm looking forward to the action." His face remained serious. "Got me wondering though; after seeing what those bastards did on Camp Jefferson, it kinda makes you think."

"I've never met an opponent I couldn't take down before- even on my own." Gibbs replied firmly. "They're powerful, but they can be killed just like any other enemy I've faced. And I've got a strong team by my side with a few special tricks. If anyone can take them out, we can."

Nigel uncrossed his arms. "No argument from me on that, Agent Gibbs. I suppose Camp Jefferson kinda brought the reality up close and personal." His eyes shifted to the ground. "Makes it home- what we're doing, what we're up against."

He looked back up at the ex-marine. "I'll be in the armoury for a few hours in case you need me. Suppose everyone else is gonna be resting up for the next mission. Getting some… closure, you know?"

He raised his right hand and saluted Gibbs before turning and walking out of the room.

The team leader was left staring at the door for a minute after it closed. In his mind, he couldn't shake Delcourt's words to him.

"…_once you locate the Blood Devils' base of operations and find a way to actually get to it… there's no guarantee that you or any of your team will return…_"

As a marine, he had rarely feared death. He faced it every day, yet he never let it slow him down.

As an NCIS agent, he was faced with much different circumstances. And he had a different outlook; not so much for his own life, but for those of his team members. They were like a second family for him- a way for him to make it to the next day. A reason to keep doing what he did.

_When the hell did following me into a likely suicide mission become part of their job description?_

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**Yeah, I know this is kind of short, but I think it helps the flow better if it's broken up like this. The next chapter will have much more character development, I promise!**


	29. Worth Fighting For

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 19:10 EST**_

"_Ah_, Agent Gibbs." Giguère said, looking up from his work as the team leader stepped into the lab. "You have arrived in good time; currently running tests on samples found at Camp Jefferson. Surprising so far- unlike anything I have ever seen." He inhaled audibly. "Dare I say _anomaly_?"

"Give it to me in English, Professor." Gibbs said somewhat tiredly. He was not in the mood for longwinded speeches- not under normal circumstances and certainly not now.

"Preliminary examination of samples from hostile civilians on base confirmed my suspicions. Significant genetic re-write was committed upon subjects; mental capacity was significantly reduced, ability to reason and rationalize was completely gone. Subjects would have had no self-control. An analogy- almost as if they had been re-wired like a computer program. No ability to make own judgments- only what has been programmed into their minds; surround, attack, kill." He paused for breath. "Slaves to their own instincts. _Shadows _of their former selves."

"Any ideas on how to tell who any of them were? Or if it's possible to 'un-rewrite' them?" Gibbs already had a feeling that he knew the answers to these questions but decided to ask them anyway just to be sure.

Giguère shook his head. "_Non_- advancement is too great for any attempt at correction. It is permanent; what has been done has been done. There is no way to undo it. Picture a dog who has been bred to fight and kill; such an animal cannot be taken into a home and be tamed. It will continue to do what it has done all its life; attack and fight to the death. It is in their mind- their _instinct_. That does not change easily- certainly not in situations like this. It is probable that the Blood Devils have systematically taken many civilians and altered their genetic structure- likely from areas where they will not be noticed. High intensity conflict areas perhaps- or isolated places of habitat."

"What about the Blood Devils? You got any ideas about them? Anything that can give us an edge?"

"I am currently running samples, but there is no new information as of yet. Process is complicated as you understand- details require time to be found. Still have high hopes though." He gave a nod. "Will be working on it until I am needed again."

Gibbs studied the Frenchman intently. "It probably wouldn't kill you to leave the lab every so often." He remarked. "I've never seen you eat or talk with other people."

"Nutrition requirements taken care of- no need to worry about that." Giguère responded. "Cannot afford to drop from exhaustion in the middle of a mission, _n'est-ce pas_? No, do not concern yourself with that. I was never one for long conversations with other people." He chuckled. "They find my way of thinking and analyzing too tedious and boring. Biological processes do not make pleasant dinner conversation. Explains lack of marriage or close relationships. Besides, priorities indicate attention to work is most critical. Hardly time for idle chatter."

"You might wanna get as much chatter in while you still can, if what I've heard about our chances of survival is right." The team leader remarked, still studying Giguère.

"_Ah_, yes, I heard about that. Stephanie explained to me while I was in her office just now; I had to return an expensive- what is the correct English term? Brick? No, bug. Yes, that is it; destroyed several others in this lab, but I decided to return an expensive one to her. She explained the strong probabilities of not returning alive from the mission. I acknowledged her remark, left the bug in her possession and returned here."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like you're overly concerned with the possibility of dying." He said, making a mental note to ask Stephanie just why the hell there were bugs placed in the base.

"I have accomplished many things- lived a long life and served my country well, much like you, I believe. No regrets. Lack of close relationships slightly troubling perhaps, but not a significant issue. For me, work always the primary object."

"That the attitude you've had all your life?" Gibbs asked.

"For the most part. I talked about my work earlier- dangerous and complex work in the DGSE. Hardly ideal job for close relations. Secrecy needed to be preserved for both national and personal security."

He turned around and walked towards the wall opposite his work desk, placing his hands on the rail that ran that side of the room. "I… was not entirely honest about the work I did before. It was a lie of necessity as well as of other kinds. It has become necessary to- as you say- clear the air. This mission is far too important for secrets to be kept."

He paused for a moment. "Anti-terrorism work was more controversial than I originally described."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "I had feeling you were keeping something back." His tone was noticeably cool. "I don't like being kept in the dark about my own team _by_ my own team, Giguère."

"I apologize." The Frenchman replied, turning back towards Gibbs. "It was classified information, but you have earned the right to hear the full story; what happened, what I can do, what I did. I was not completely lying before, but… several details were left out.

"Extremist groups in North Africa were growing more quickly than anticipated. Militants were becoming more resilient to conventional attacks- developing serious counterattack strategies."

"Hardly surprising that they'd adapt their tactics." Gibbs remarked. "No one's gonna do the same things that got them killed the first time through."

"Militant groups rarely change as radically as in this example." The Frenchman explained. "They had adopted past merely surviving attacks- conventional warfare was no longer possible. Had progressed towards successful offensive strikes against government forces. Governments were too unstable- could not end attacks by themselves. They required assistance."

"And Paris sent its spy agency in to help protect the remnants of its old empire." Gibbs said with just a touch of sarcasm. "Help take care of the problem while ensuring that France gets something more useful than just a pat on the back and a 'thanks'."

Giguère shook his head. "Resources were hardly a necessity. Material goods were unnecessary- we had adequate resources. Security is another matter; extremist groups were in position to attack French nationals and cross the national borders. That could not be allowed- it was necessary to stop them before a certain point was reached."

He walked back to his desk. "I personally led a DGSE team; former military operatives, biologists, sociologists, experts on technology. We created a new variant of an airborne biological weapon and released it in various countries where extremist problem was growing too strong. Widespread effect significantly slowed down militant groups' ability to counterattack; it allowed local governments to take command of the situation."

Gibbs' look became even cooler as crossed his arms again. "An airborne weapon." He repeated, his tone far from friendly. "So all that talk about not experimenting with biological weapons earlier was nothing but crap. Another lie of necessity, Giguère?"

"Please Gibbs," Giguère said, sounding both a little bit exasperated and offended. "We are not talking about war crimes. It was an act that was designed to save lives. Airborne weapon was created to induce cardiac failure in affected subjects- no different than passing away in one's sleep; quick, sudden, painless. Which is more than what most of them deserved."

"And how exactly did you spread this thing?"

"Covert drops within rural and civilian areas; places where militants would accumulate in greatest numbers- Morocco, Algeria, even a test run in Syria. It was very difficult; French nationals were often scarce in such areas. The team was caught once or twice and we had to fight free." He paused for breath. "Those moments were unorganized- messy. Much better when everything went as planned."

"And you really thought this was the best option?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"Yes!" Giguère said with a sudden renewed vigour. "We considered dozens of other options. Perhaps even more!" He began walking back and forth behind his desk. "Rejected conventional attacks that would place greater civilian numbers at risk! Avoided more high publicity attacks that would incite nationalist anger! May have prevented attacks which would have provoked a visible response from other Western countries and caused serious problems. We were not terrorists, Gibbs. We did everything to ensure the best possible outcome was achieved. The airborne weapon allowed a humane method of rapidly eliminating militant networks while reducing civilian casualties. Less militant numbers meant better opportunity for regular citizens- less chance of them becoming involved in the cross-fire. It was a suitable exchange for everyone- we benefit and they benefit!"

"Releasing a bioweapon that knowingly kills everyone including civilians is more than just protecting national security, Giguère." Gibbs said coldy. "That sounds a hell of a lot like a war crime to me. I don't like war criminals, especially those who try to justify it with something else."

Giguère's face grew cool and unfriendly. "If you do not want me on the team, you are under no obligation to bring me. I can stay here and work on information about the Blood Devils." He shook his head. "But I have no apologies. I did what was necessary then and I will do the same here. The Blood Devils are doing horrific things- we may face hard choices. I hope that you are wise enough as leader to not let a valuable opportunity slip by."

He turned his attention back to the monitor in front of him. "I must return to work. If you need me, I will be here. Free time for discussion is limited; perhaps the next time this synthesis of issue must compile? Your decision. Will continue work as necessary."

The Frenchman ceased speaking and now focused completely on the screen in front of him. Gibbs turned and walked out of the lab, his mind pondering deeply.

_Since when did I become the soft one arguing against 'any means necessary'?_

**NCIS**

"I was unaware that the Canadian intelligence agency sent its operatives on likely suicide missions." Ziva remarked to McCrae in the common room, sitting in a chair in front of a long table. "I thought that most of their job involved sitting in an office and analyzing information."

"Yeah well, we in the Great White North don't have much reason to assassinate people so we're a little rusty at this kind of thing." McCrae placed a cup of coffee in front of the former Israeli, which she gratefully accepted. He sat down beside her, clutching his own cup in his hands. "That little FLQ crisis in the sixties got all the human rights advocates and populace scared of too much government power, and all they did was suspend a few civil liberties and arrest some people."

"FLQ?"

"Quebec terrorist organization seeking to separate from the rest of the country. First real domestic terrorism we've ever had on our soil. Scared the shit outta a lot of people. We've had to tread carefully since then."

"Ah, I see." Ziva took a sip of coffee before continuing. "But that was the military taking action, yes? Not intelligence based."

"No, Canada isn't much for killing off its international enemies." McCrae chuckled. "We don't have that many enemies to speak of; very few terrorists hate Canada for simply being Canada. I doubt most of them could even point us out on a map- think we're a virtually unimportant satellite of the US. When they do focus on us, it's more out of our alliance with them and other, more powerful countries. So our bureau of assassination is getting a little dusty." He took a sip from his own cup. "Any way you look at it, CSIS doesn't have the power of the CIA… or Mossad."

"Perhaps that is a good thing. You do not have to worry about terrorism so much that you need to design your intelligence service to constantly be on alert and kill them. There is no extreme level of paranoia as there is in Israel."

"Maybe." McCrae sat back in his chair. "Doesn't mean we're incompetent or irrelevant, but sometimes I wished we'd take a more active role in hunting down the world's bad guys. Guess I got more than I bargained for, eh? We all did."

"Yes," Ziva said thoughtfully. "It is strange for me to be told I will be going on a likely suicide mission and to not feel totally isolated and emotionless. Very strange."

McCrae looked at her. "Sounds like you've had some past experience."

Ziva's face betrayed nothing except for a slight flicker in her eyes. "I… was knowingly sent on a mission in Mossad last year that had a strong possibility of my not returning. It is a risk in every mission but especially in this one. I was captured- starved, beaten and tortured for months. I had convinced myself that I would die in that dirty room in Somalia- it was one of the things that kept me from talking. I am certain I would have died there…"

"But?" McCrae prompted.

A flicker of a smile appeared on her face. "I had friends in NCIS who had not forgotten me. They had come to avenge my supposed death- Gibbs and Tony and McGee. They came to kill my alleged murderers. Instead they ended up saving my life. I will never forget that- never forget that I have true friends who are willing to risk their lives for mine, even with the smallest probability of success. That is worth more than anything my father ever gave me. Those are the friends you trust to… have your six."

McCrae smirked. "Gibbs rubbing off on you, I see. Old bastard still hasn't changed."

"I doubt an earthquake could move Gibbs."

"Damn right on that." The two sat in silence for a moment, drinking their coffee, before McCrae said, "You really believe we're walking into hell with no chance of coming back?"

"We are facing an unknown, highly advanced enemy in a location that no one has ever returned alive from." Ziva bowed her head, staring into the depths of her cup. "I will not lie to myself about being optimistic; our survival odds are very low under the circumstances. Perhaps it is easier for me to understand since I have been in situations before like this, but… it has never been anything like this. I had a feeling back in Virginia that this mission had a certain sense of finality in it for us all; I suppose this it. I will do everything I possibly can to try and not make this an exception. But," she shook her head, "I am not certain it will be enough." She looked over at him. "What do you think?"

"I'm a soldier, remember?" He gave a slight grin. "Always will be. Figure if I'm going to go out, it may as well be in battle now rather than in my bed thirty, forty years down the road. Still, if there's anything I can do to make sure that any and all of our team back home alive, I'll do it."

"Do you believe that is possible?"

"We gotta try, don't we?" McCrae said with slight vigour, downing the majority of his coffee and leaning back in his chair. He remained silent for a moment before a thoughtful look came over his face. "There has to be something we can do to increase our chances."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Does that mean you have an idea?"

"Maybe," The Canadian interlaced his fingers as he continued to look off thoughtfully. "But I'll have to look at it closer- see if it's even possible. No guarantee of it happening." He shrugged. "Ah well, better to try, be wrong and go down fighting than curled up scared not knowing for the rest of your life, right?"

"Indeed." Ziva agreed. "And it is better to have someone fight alongside you when you try- friends you can trust."

"Yeah- risking your life is always better when you've got something to fight for. I may not be in my prime, but I'm still a soldier. Fighting for my country, all it represents and all the good people within it. Make it a better place, right?" He mused. The Canadian turned towards Ziva. "What about you? Got anything that's especially important enough to drive you to survive this mission- or anyone?"

Ziva had fleeting image in her mind; a brief yet clear picture that pushed itself to the front. A dark handsome face with green eyes and the grin of a Cheshire cat…

_Tony_.

She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of coffee, her eyes in a mode of concentration. When she didn't say anything, McCrae didn't push her and instead turned and looked straight ahead, finishing the rest of his own drink.

**NCIS**

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 21:18 EST**_

"So this is what you meant when you said we were walking into hell." Tony mused as he lay on his bunk in the male crew quarters. "Waiting around for the all-mighty CSIS director to tell us when to go rushing into the unknown with a good chance of us never coming back. Gotta say, I never thought I would miss some good old fashioned paperwork."

"Look at it this way." Nigel responded as he crossed over from his own bunk across the room, having just come from the armoury. "If the odds are truly as bad as they seem, you'll never have to worry about filling in reports ever again. But if this operation succeeds, everyone- CSIS, ASIS, NCIS- all will be remembered differently and held up as heroes. All of us will be considered above the meagre task of doing paperwork." He shrugged. "Or we'll all be tried, executed or thrown into Guantanamo for some 'secret debriefing'. Either way, I doubt you'll have to worry about paperwork."

The ex-cop gave a slight chuckle. "Guess you're right." Tony turned and lay on his back staring at the ceiling. "Well, at least if I go out, I'll be sure to go out in a blaze of glory! Have to think of an appropriate movie to quote when the time comes. It'll either be in the form of famous last words or a real badass line when we come out of it alive. And of course, there are plenty of hot women that would mourn the passing of Tony DiNozzo… along with a few rare exceptions who'd be thrilled to see my obituary."

The Australian smirked. "Broke a few hearts across the country, did we mate?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Tony couldn't help but grin despite the grim scenario. "I bet you left a few Aussie girls wanting your blood back home."

"Not that I know of, but that's probably a good thing. Personal relationships don't seem to work out for me, whether it's romantic or just friendly. Probably why I'm in the job that I'm in. This isn't exactly the best place to get friendly with anyone." He shook his head. "Maybe it's better that way."

"You got anyone waiting for you back home?" Tony asked.

"Nope. I'm an only child with no close extended family and no long-term relationships. Wouldn't be fair in this line of work. Suppose it's better- you can't miss what you never had, right?"

"Your family wouldn't miss you or know what you did?"

"My mum died last year- sudden stroke out of the blue. This for a woman who was healthy and active almost every day in her whole life. I barely had the time to hear about it before I was sent back out on another assignment. I hadn't talked to her for a few years before that. Think she preferred I went into law or med school instead of the military. But she respected my choice. Rarely got the chance to talk her once I was deployed. After she died, well… almost made me regret my decision. But I pushed on- fighting the good fight, right?"

"And your father?" Tony asked.

Nigel's eyes seemed to flicker for a second. "I never knew him. My mother and he were never married. The way I've heard it, he took off as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Guess he didn't think I was important enough to even know. I was slightly bitter about it as teenager- who wouldn't be? But I think I turned out right enough; my mother sure as hell worked hard enough for two parents. I wouldn't be surprised if it helped her along the way towards her stoke. Trying to keep me on the straight and narrow probably didn't help."

Tony nodded. "Definitely isn't easy to deal with that as a young kid." He said in agreement, knowing full well what it was like to grow up without a loving father.

"So as a teenager I basically told the world to go to hell and started doing everything I wanted to do." Nigel went on. "Surfing all day, partying all night and sleeping with as many girls as I damn well wanted. It all seemed like one giant blur- until I was almost snapped out of it."

Tony narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"At that point in time, I had a take-it-or-leave-it about using protection. If I had a condom on me, great. If not, I'd say 'fuck it, I'm doing it anyway'. Well, the summer when I was twenty, I heard it through the grapevine that one of the girls I'd been with a few nights earlier was HIV positive. And this had been one of the times I hadn't used protection."

Tony stared. "Damn."

"Exactly. I was scared out of my bloody mind. When I went to get tested, I nearly lost it when they told me the tests wouldn't be back for forty-eight hours. Up until that point, it was the longest forty-eight hours of my life. I think it was even worse for my mum- to see her child scared and possibly infected with a killer disease. When the results finally came back as negative, I think she actually cried. Put me off of sex for quite a while- and _always_ used protection for when it did happen."

"At least casually, I'm sure." Tony grinned, even though in his mind he was wondering about some of his own early escapades. "You ever think of settling down?"

Nigel gave a slight chuckle. "With our odds being as low as they are, it's probably a good thing I haven't already. Being away all the time, likely won't come back alive- I'd say it's for the best. There's no guarantee I ever would anyway. It's not like I have a bunch of free time on my hands." He shook his head. "I'm in this to stop the Blood Devils and to avenge all those have been taken. Ensure Australia and every other country won't ever be threatened by them again." He looked at Tony curiously. "What about you, mate? Assuming we survive this, can you ever see yourself settling down with anyone?"

Tony was silent for a moment. "I… don't know."

Nigel chuckled and shook his head. "Don't let me rub off on you too much; there's only room for one brass, young permanent bachelor around here!"

He lay back down and closed his eyes. "Well, if you do get hitched, I get the sense she'd have be damn special to get Special Agent Tony DiNozzo to give up his womanizing and settle down for good!"

A picture pushed itself to the front of Tony's mind; a beautiful female face, smirking in a friendly teasing kind of way, with pink lips and long, raven hair…

_Ziva_.

"Yeah." Tony replied, staring at the ceiling. "She would be."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**There's going to be more character development in the next chapter- I had to split it up so it would flow better. Please tell me what you think!**


	30. Love, Rage and Curiosity

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 21:32 EST**_

"I thought you might have just been over-exaggerating a little when you told Gibbs that a number of us may not be coming back from this mission." Abby remarked from her bunk in the women's sleeping quarters. "Or maybe just talking about a few of the lower-level agents who aren't used to fighting. But… now that I've heard about in detail…" She trailed off.

"You got the memo from Stephanie, I guess." Chloe turned towards the Goth from her own bunk on the other side of the room.

"Yeah. Wasn't even nice enough to come around to see me face to face about it. Just sent me a message at the cockpit. You'd think she could have done a little more than type up something saying, 'Hey, the last mission wasn't up to our expectations and oh, by the way, we're all likely going to be dead by the end of this'."

"She didn't really phrase it like that, did she?"

"No. It was much more _pristine_, _proper_ and _official_." Abby emphasized these words sarcastically in a mock, upper-class British tone. "Like everything else surrounding her, messages of our likely impending death have to be delivered _perfectly_."

"I take it you two didn't hit it off too well." Chloe remarked.

"Oh, you figured that out from your Psych 101 class at Western, did you?"

"No." Chloe grinned mischievously. "I heard about your little disagreement in the Communications Room a couple of days ago. About how you and she were trying to get the upper hand on each other with Agent McGee caught in the middle. Is that a bit of jealousy I'm getting, Abby?"

"You know you're the second person- second Canadian actually- to ask me that." Abby replied somewhat warily, looking over towards the other woman. "Thought you guys were supposed to be all nice and polite and not too intrusive in people's lives and stuff. Or is that part of CSIS's official mandate?"

"No. Just simple, friendly curiosity. And genuine interest in making sure everything's fine. Director Delcourt has given me the job of making sure all members of this team are mentally fit and prepared. There's nothing that says I can't be friends with them while I do it."

Abby looked at the Canadian in a more interested and less wary way. "Chloe, you seem like such a nice and caring person. _Too_ nice to be here. I think you might just be even nicer than me, and _that_ just isn't possible, girl! Why…?"

"Why do I work for CSIS when they have a somewhat dark and gritty reputation?" Chloe interjected.

"How did you know what I was going to ask?"

"You forget that I'm a psychologist. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't have a good idea of what other people were thinking."

"And here I thought only Gibbs could tell what I was thinking before I said it. If that's true, then why be a part of CSIS? You don't have reservations about working with a group like this?"

Chloe shook her head. "Not at all. Our methods can sometimes be harsh and less than ethical, but CSIS has good objectives. We look out for Canadian interests. Advance Canadian technology and security. Save Canadian lives. Those are noble goals. And it doesn't mean we thumb our noses at every other country. I'm a proud Canadian who loves Canada. I also love Americans, Europeans, Latin Americans, Africans, Australians, Middle Easterners…"

Abby raised an eyebrow, privately musing whether if Gibbs had heard that, he would wonder whether Abby had finally been upstaged in the warm and fuzzy department. Giving a small amused grin, she said, "Sounds like you'd be a perfect candidate for one of those 'let's all hug and love the world' groups, Chloe."

"What can I say?" Chloe shrugged. "I'm a people person. But anyway, I'm not talking to you as a member of CSIS. I'm talking to you as a friend. And I'm probably better at understanding what you feel than you give me credit for. So- is it jealousy that makes you dislike Officer Brewer?"

"No. Yes! No!" This time it was Chloe's turn to raise an eyebrow at Abby's ramble. "I mean, no, I'm not jealous of her. Why would I be? I'm not competing with her for anything."

"Not even for McGee's company?"

Abby whipped her head around, her pigtails flying around her head. "No! Why would… look Chloe, there's nothing going on between McGee and I- not anymore."

"But there was."

"A long time ago." Abby said quickly. "It's over and done with. McGee and I… we're not compatible. I can't give him what he wants. We've been friends for a long time and that's all we're going to be. He's free to spend time with whomever he wants to- it's not my business what he talks to another woman about."

"Not even when the woman in question is former RCMP officer with expert marksmanship skills, hand-to-hand combat moves and the firmest, tightest…"

"Chloe," Abby said in a low voice with a flint of an edge to it, "I like you. I like you quite a bit. You're one of the few CSIS people here that I can talk to without wondering what their ulterior motive is. I'd _hate_ for that friendship to come to an end because you were found to have been killed by a mysterious assassin that leaves no forensic evidence behind."

Chloe quickly held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I got it! No gossip with the deadly Goth scientist! Gotta remember that!" She lay back on her bunk. "God, you're a hell cat, Abby."

The lab rat shot a look over to the Canadian. "So I've been told by quite a few guys." She said, unable to stop a smirk from appearing onto her face and was pleased to see one on the psychologist's as well. "Look Chloe- I'm sorry if I came across as harsh. I'd just not prefer to talk about that right now. It's… really personal, even to someone like you, okay?"

Chloe nodded. "Sure."

The two women lay in silence for a moment before Abby asked, "Hey… I may be being a bit hypocritical for asking this- you know, because I just basically told you that I don't want to talk about my personal life- but… do you have anyone waiting for you back home?"

"Oh, yes." Chloe's face immediately grew brighter and a large smile spread over her face. "I have someone _very_ special back at home. We're very much in love and have been for several years. In fact, we were talking about getting married just before I was assigned to this mission. I hope we'll still be able to do that at the end of it."

"Oh my God, _really_?" Abby literally squealed, sitting up quickly on her bunk. "That's _so_ romantic!"

"I know." Chloe smiled contentedly. "We were hoping we could do it before any major work issues came up. But then I got assigned to this. There was fear- there always is, you know, that things may turn out very bad. But we promised each other that at the end of it, there would be no more delays in being together forever. We have too strong a connection to risk being apart for much longer. Well," she blushed, "that and the fact that we couldn't keep our hands off of each other the last night before I was transferred here."

A knowing smirk spread over Abby's face. "Hmm, so the 'I might never see you again but if I do we'll be together forever' scenario actually works great for sex, huh? You guys tear it up that night?"

"_All_ night." Chloe confirmed.

"Passionate?"

"Like _animals_."

Abby whistled and broke into a huge grin. "Maybe you should come down to DC sometime and share all your secrets to success with me."

Chloe merely gave a small smile and lay back facing the ceiling.

"So, tell me," Abby went right on. "What's he like?"

Chloe closed her eyes and continued smiling. "That's always the assumption." She murmured quietly.

Abby narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"When two people are in love, it shouldn't matter _who_ they are- what their personal traits are." Chloe said. "All that matters is that they love and care about each other."

"Okay, so what makes this situation so unique?" Abby asked curiously.

Chloe turned her head towards her, still smiling. "The fact that my partner and I are able to be together- legally- and yet still have obstacles thrown up in front of us."

"I still don't understand."

Chloe merely continued to smile kindly, as though she had had to explain this before. "My _partner_, Abby. I want to get married to my _partner_."

"Your partner? I don't know what you…" Abby stopped talking, her eyes growing wider as the realization suddenly set in. "OH! I'm sorry… I didn't know that you were…"

"It's okay Abby, you can say it." Chloe said as Abby trailed off, a somewhat neutral look that also reflected understanding and content in it on her face. "I'm a lesbian."

"Yeah, I know what that means. I just…"

"Didn't expect me to be open about it." The Canadian finished.

"Yeah." Abby shifted in her bunk, playing with the sheets somewhat nervously. "I don't have a problem with it! Really, I don't! You just… kinda caught me off guard there."

"That's usually the reaction. People don't expect me to talk about it openly, especially not here in the States. And even back home too. I think that it's fortunate we at least have the legal right to get married in Canada; the situation's a bit taboo even up there."

Abby bit her lip, wondering if she really wanted to ask anything more. In the end, her curiousity got the best of her. "How long have you two been together?"

"Four years." Chloe responded. "Her name's Samantha; we were psych students at Western together. She's amazing; smart, kind, funny. She has a dream of opening her own practice in Vancouver one day. There was an instant attraction between us. We couldn't stand not seeing each other and as soon as we graduated, we moved in together. Our jobs made it more difficult, but we managed to make it work. And after a while we both realized the same thing- we wanted to get married and be together forever. We wanted to plan it all out. Then I got called away on this mission. It was… difficult, but she understood. We promised each other that we wouldn't wait a single day more to get married after it ended." She paused and stared straight ahead, apparently trying to keep herself from becoming too emotional and not doing a very good job of it. "If I'm still alive after it."

"Yes, you will be!" Abby said firmly, quickly crossing the room and sitting down beside Chloe. She reached over and grasped the younger woman's hand in her own. "You _will_ be alive at the end of this! We _all_ will. Gibbs won't give anyone under his orders permission to die and trust me- _no one_ dies unless Gibbs gives up on them. And he _never_ does! When this is done, you and she will be able to be together for the rest of your lives. That's something you should look forward to!"

Chloe gave a muffled chuckle. "I only wish everyone else was as happy and accepting about it as you are. It would make sending out family invitations much easier."

Abby looked at her. "Your family doesn't approve? Any of them?"

"It's not a large family; no brothers or sisters. No close cousins or aunts and uncles. Just my parents. And inviting them isn't an option. They were under the impression that 'Sam' was a guy and I had to keep making excuses when they wanted to meet 'him'. When I finally came out and told them that it was another woman that I was in love with, it didn't go well at all. Mom merely shook her head and refused to speak to me again. Dad pitched a huge fit, called me a 'filthy dyke who brought shame to the family', said I wasn't their daughter anymore, that he never wanted to see me again, and told me to get my 'lesbo-spawning' ass out and never come back or contact them again."

Abby stared in shock at the young Canadian. "Are you serious?" She asked in disbelief.

"Dead serious. But I can't say I'm surprised; Mom was a true-old fashioned Catholic and Dad came from a traditional family in rural Alberta, which is pretty much the most conservative place you can get in the country. And he can _shout_; twenty years in the army tends to help with that. So, as you can see, I've got no one to invite."

"Chloe, listen to me!" Abby took hold of the other woman's shoulders and guided her gently to face her. "_I'm_ Catholic! I go bowling with nuns quite often. And I just wish I could be a part of your family to show how happy I am for you!"

Chloe blinked in surprise. "Really? That's…"

"Unexpected, yeah I know." She cast a hand over her torso. "Goth, tattoos, I know it doesn't fit your traditional view of a Catholic, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm happy for you. You've found someone you can settle down with, which places you far ahead of me right now. Gender shouldn't be an issue here; you love her and she loves you. That's the only thing that matters."

Chloe smiled- a small but appreciative smile. "Thanks, Abby. I appreciate it."

"And hey, if I can't be a part of your family there, maybe you could at least let me help with the wedding planning!"

Chloe looked at her in surprise. "You know how to plan a wedding?"

Abby smiled coyly. "I might be able to pull a few strings here and there."

"It's not Goth-themed, is it?"

"Oh, you have _no idea_..."

**NCIS**

"…and then, the Blood Devil's head was crushed like a berry between my fist and the back cockpit wall!" Gage said gleefully, giving a huge grin. "It was phenomenal; hearing the bones breaking and feeling the skull fracture beneath my hand! And the explosion afterwards! Tremendous!"

Maria gritted her teeth in frustration. She had come out of the weapons locker to use the women's bathroom and while going back had run into the South African on his way to grab a meal. She'd been standing in the hall for more than five minutes while the massive soldier recounted every last gory detail about the battle at Camp Jefferson.

"Look, _puto_," she finally growled, "I really do not care about what happened back there or how much blood you spilled. The only spilled blood that will be talked about around here will be _yours_ if you do not get the fuck out of my way right now."

"Hah!" Gage exclaimed, staring down at the much smaller Brazilian. "Now that's an attitude I like! You should have been there with us; the glory, the battle, the carnage! And ending things off with a huge crash! _Those_ are the kinds of fights I could get used to! This team isn't nearly as weak as I thought it was at the beginning!"

"I _should_ have been there. I would have blown your irritating head off and saved myself the headache I have now." She paused and turned her head to send a death glare at a curious CSIS member who had stopped to watch the confrontation from afar, sending him quickly on his way. When she looked back ahead, she saw that Gage was studying her intently.

"What the hell are you looking at?" She snapped.

"You're small."

Maria fixed him with a look. "And you're ugly. You have a point here?"

"Your stature is among the smallest and weakest I've seen. In the battles I've had put in my head, it is the strongest warrior who survives another day to fight again. By those standards, you should not have survived past birth, let alone become a fighter in your own right. Your weapon is that of someone who doesn't expect to live long."

"Keep talking, asshole." Maria said, moving right up in front of him to stare tauntingly and defiantly into his eyes while subconsciously fingering the pistol concealed in her pants. "I bet mine is bigger than yours."

Gage stared down at the young woman who barely came up to the top of his chest, yet exuded much more strength than was usual for someone in her position. "The pictures in my head emphasize strength, not tenacity. The Blood Devils are an enemy worthy of a true warrior- not one that pretends to be someone they're not."

She clicked the safety off her weapon. "Last chance, Gage."

Gage merely continued to stare down at her. "You're small, yet the way I've heard it you fight like a true South African. You reflect the inner strength of the Zulus, who fought and died like warriors against the British. The tank imprints show the fearlessness of such warriors in combat. Nothing has ever indicated that females could show that level of courage."

"Aw, is the little tank-boy growing out of his picture books?" Maria said in a sarcastic tone. "Welcome to the real world, you _filho da puta_. It is a little harsher than your dead 'dad' made it out. What the hell was in those tank imprints anyway?"

Gage chuckled amusedly. "That's just it. There _is_ nothing of use from them. Not with what we're dealing with. I thought the tank and all its imprints were all the knowledge of the world, and now when I see things in person it's completely different. I was confused before, but _now_ I understand; the _real_ fight is in my mind, how I make sense of what's been given to me. Don't you get it? I. _Hate_. Europeans. But I don't know why I do. Sisulu spent all his time on old hatreds- colonial pasts and misdeeds. But if I find a reason for why I feel what I do, maybe I can find what I'm really looking for."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You hate Europeans, huh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised if I hear you have blown Giguère's oversized French head off and Gibbs is riding your ass for it."

"I don't hate Giguère." The black soldier shook his head. "I hate Europeans. Giguère is only one European. And he is a capable combatant in his own right. As long as he doesn't screw with me, we'll be fine."

"How disappointing. I was hoping to see some bloodshed around here. What other history lessons are floating around in your small mind?"

"Less than a finger's depth to snap your neck." Gage responded, pointing a finger at Maria. "You're soft; Americans, Brazilians, Europeans- all soft. Israelis… not so much. Russians… I suppose you have to hack away and work the blade a bit first. With the fall of their large empire, there's not much point to it though." A grin crossed his face as he chuckled and made air quotes in the air. "'Much _point_.'"

Maria rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. "Okay, I get it. You love slaughtering people and fighting good battles. And you like making pathetic puns. But what the hell are you _actually _trying to get at?" She demanded. "Or are you just intentionally trying to piss me off? If that is the case, you are doing a fucking good job."

"You and I are similar."

A look of anger spread over Maria's face. Her hand once again clasped the pistol at her side. "We are _nothing_ alike. Do not _ever_ make that statement again."

"We've both been designed as killing machines. We revel in battle and destruction. Yet we both seek something more. Mine is belonging- understanding where I fit. And I'll bet my shotgun you want the same thing."

"Great; I am hearing what my ideal future would be from a fucking _virgin_. And anyway what do you know? You work for Gibbs. He's just another CSIS lackey and you know that. And maybe that's the one thing you _do_ understand clearly. You _know_ that you are a big, dumb brute who follows orders like a dog, just like most of your fellow 'warriors', and you revel in it. That is one damn fine place to belong, Gage."

A new look came across Gage's face, one reflecting discontent. Not anger, but it was definitely not a friendly one either. He drew himself up to his full height, towering over the BOPE officer. "The history of Africa is drenched in blood and conflict." He said, crossing his arms which were easily as wide as Maria's torso. "But don't make the mistake of dismissing us all as naturally dumb or stupid. If there is stupidity, it is with how we fight amongst us and divide ourselves, not because of some damn cultural reason."

"Sure, whatever." Maria shrugged indifferently. "Gibbs did not recruit you for your looks or your sob-stories so I guess that doesn't matter."

"Gibbs may piss me off sometimes, but he's a damn good leader." Gage retorted. "He knows his team's strengths and weaknesses and uses them well. People like you and I make up the pure unbridled strength and ferocity of the unit."

"Is this another attempt at bonding with me? If so, you are wasting your breath."

"I am what am I because of what was given to me. My organs were grown from hundreds that were more worthy than I am, and the knowledge they had was implanted in my mind. What Sisulu wanted me to know, I know. How he wanted to me to react is a different story- unquestioning of the cause and the hatred. But why should I do what I was created to do? It is not my choice; I'm built for strength yet didn't earn it, and Sisulu didn't tell me how to deal with something like that. I don't know what he saw in me that made me worthwhile in his eyes. The first time he turned on the tank, I screamed- weakly, pathetically. There has to be a reason for why I'm here now."

"You're a bloodthirsty killing machine." Maria replied. "It's a simple as that. Gibbs is fighting monsters who do not give one shit about the life or pain of another person. The only way to stop them is through people who are as heartless as they are. You need a psycho to kill a monster. I guess that's the only way you and I could possibly be similar. But that's where it ends."

Gage eyed her intently. "You talk as though you already know you're crazy."

"I've done some really screwed-up things in my life and I don't really care about any of it." Maria said dismissively. "Don't really care about anyone else either. You let someone get too close and all it means is that they have few more inches to stab you right in the back. It's why I am still alive- because I do the smart thing. I always do the smart thing if someone decides to get cute and fuck with me." She stared up at him. "That's something you really ought to remember."

"So you're tough and you hate people." Gage rumbled. "It doesn't say anything about you or how you got here; I doubt you've survived until now all on your own."

"I've been around long enough to know how the world works." The Brazilian responded. "And I've learned the only true way to keep living is to kill everyone who can screw with you. You let someone go and it just means you spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder." She paused for a brief moment. "Lonely and alive works just fine for me."

Gage did not miss on the hesitancy or the choice of words, but decided not to comment on it for the moment. "Yet you're a cop in Rio."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I don't really understand it either. Guess it's better than what I came from or where I was going. Some sort of direction, I suppose. Saves me from having to revert back to the old ways."

Gage studied her as she went on in a casual voice. "Murder, drug trafficking, armed robbery, kidnapping. You name it, I have done it. And that shit is on the boring list."

Gage observed closely as the BOPE officer went on in the same voice. "Domestic terrorism, theft of a military vehicle, destruction of a government building and cruel and unjust punishment." She shrugged again. "Not a bad list all things considered."

"Where does cruel and unjust punishment fit on that kind of list?"

"I was part of a gang for one of the hill lords in Rio. Found out that he was purchasing the weapons we were using by selling cocaine to young kids. That was not what I intended to be a part of. I demanded that he stop that and he refused. Then he tried to get rid of me." A murderous glint sparkled for a second in her eye. "Castrated him and let him bleed out among his precious white gold."

Gage chuckled, apparently at the thought of the carnage such an act. "Damn, you really _are_ one twisted girl! How did you go from killing drug lords as a criminal to killing them as a cop?"

"The police were raiding the hill at the same time. They captured me and brought me down to the main station. Tortured and beat the hell out of me for two days trying to get information on the other members of the gang. All they got in return was a big 'fuck you'. Then the BOPE captain came in- said that he was told of how resilient and strong I had been during the interrogations. He gave me a choice; apply to the national police force under his tutelage and work my way to the BOPE, or spend the rest of my life, however short it may be, in a Rio prison. Figured I may as well take the opportunity to see daylight again."

"How old were you?"

"Old enough to know what I was going to do."

"That's not a damn answer."

"Eighteen." The Brazilian responded tersely. "Is that simple enough for your small brain?"

Gage raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms again and stared at the Brazilian. "So- you killed people as a cop for doing the same things that you did as a crazy, screwed-up kid."

"It was not the same!" Maria growled angrily. "I was never given a choice as to what I grew up with! It was all in the environment I saw on a daily basis; drugs and sex and killing people who would slit your throat for a candy bar if you let your guard down for a split second. You have no _idea _as to some of the things that happened to me! I never got a say in that. So don't you get all high and mighty with me, _puto_! There is a big difference between them and me!"

The South African shrugged. "Doesn't seem like it."

"Well, there sure as hell is. There was a line even I refused to cross as a criminal; the people I killed as a cop were truly sick fucks who crossed that line on a daily basis. Drug lords who sold their shit to children; traffickers who kidnapped young women, beat and raped them and then sold them into slavery in the United States. I was _never_ a part of that! When I killed an official in my gang days, it was usually because he profited from stuff like that. _I _never did!"

She looked him dead in the eyes, daring the massive soldier to challenge her on this point. "You have no idea how much one can lose in eighteen years. Everyone is always trying to take something from you; your freedom, your life, your…" She hesitated, her eyes moving downwards unguarded for just a split second, "Your pride."

And then the weakness was gone. Her face grew hard once again and her fists clenched tightly. "You have no idea what it is like to grow up in an environment like that. So don't you _fucking_ tell me that you understand it because you _don't_!"

Gage regarded her surprisingly coolly for a few moments. Then he uncrossed his arms and said, "Hmm. Maybe I should envy you then."

"What?"

"You've had a screwed-up life; you're a crazy, screwed-up person, yet you seek to adapt and find meaning through your own means. You got your ass kicked more times than you can count, yet you stand up and give it back ten times over. I'd say that's worth more than any of the tank imprints in my mind."

Maria relaxed a little, her fists unclenching slightly. "Maybe. If one is looking for a role model, I would normally tell them to piss off. But you? You're just as violent and crazy as I am. Guess we psycho killers have to stick together."

"If we do, the Blood Devils are going to be in a _hell_ of a lot of trouble!"

Maria's face darkened noticeably. "Yeah, I heard indirectly that CSIS is knowingly sending us somewhere we are not likely to return from. Figured the Canadian princess would do her best to screw me over as much as possible. Guess I will just have to make sure that she and I both survive; show the bitch what _real_ pain feels like."

The South African's dark face remained largely expressionless. "You ever think that maybe your craziness is what's keeping you from having direction and purpose?"

"No." The answer was curt and definitive.

"Why not?"

"There is no reason that I should still be alive right now, but I am." Maria responded easily. "You want to know why? My instinct. It has worked for me before and I am not going to change. You can find your own direction, but do not try to make me feel the same way."

The black soldier said nothing, merely observing her silently.

"Hey Gage," Maria said slowly. "No one has ever asked me about all of this. It is… strange to talk about."

She took a definitive step forward, intentionally knocking her shoulder against his arm as she walked past. "So fuck you. And thank you for asking."

As Gage watched her retreating form down the hall, he shook his head and chuckled.

_Maybe she's not as screwed up as she wants to be._

**NCIS**

"It is truly remarkable, don't you think Mr. Palmer?" Ducky said as he bent over the body of a deceased Blood Devil on an examination bed.

"What is, Doctor Mallard?"

"The suit of this mysterious militant appears to have been permanently melded to their body. There seems to be no way of separating human from clothing without physically eviscerating the entire body. And without separating the suit from the body, there can be no way to tell who this poor chap was."

"This 'poor chap' was part of a group who attacked and destroyed the NCIS naval yard, doctor." Jimmy said somewhat sceptically.

"Yes Mr. Palmer, but you do not use your powers of observation." The Scotsman chided gently, lifting up a tube half-filled with clear blue liquid. "This was not a case of a normal militant organization trying to make a point. They coordinate and carry out their plans in a very timely and organized manner- almost in the same form as a bee colony. And then of course there is the pressing concern of the unusual substance which flows within them. Do you recall any medical condition which could cause this?"

"No doctor, this is completely new to me. As far as I know there is no way for the haemoglobin in the blood to turn completely blue. Not naturally at least."

"Indeed. If I was to hazard a guess, I would say that this militant has, whether voluntarily or otherwise, undergone some very extreme alterations to its biological structure, as have the poor devils that seem to have joined them." Ducky nodded towards the next table, where the body of one of the hostile civilian males- _shadows_, as Giguère had described them- lay. "Impossible to say offhand what the possible implications could be. We shall have to wait until the results of that are complete. That is out of our capabilities and more suited to those of Professor Giguère."

"Yes, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy paused, examining the Blood Devil's body. "Uh, doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it true what I've heard? About this mission being… well, a likely suicide one?"

"Ah, yes, I had heard that as well." Ducky said absently, still bending over the body.

"Well… don't you have some opinion on that, doctor?"

"Mr. Palmer," the ME stated, looking up at the young man. "I do not wish to be the bearer of bad news; it makes our situation even grimmer than it already is. However, I feel I must make an exception in this case since it has much more serious implications for all of us. I am aware that this mission is likely a one-way trip, as was explained to me in the memo sent by Miss Brewer, and I will concur with her the likely outcomes are not at all good. That is all I can say."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "That's all, doctor? You seem to have a really calm view about it."

"I've been through many more difficult times in my life than I care to recount." Ducky responded. "More close encounters than I care to remember. But they have all had some special purpose for me and I remember them all clearly for that. I've lived a full life and have no regrets. Except perhaps one." The doctor stared down at his young protégé with almost an air of pride. "That I may not see the young man I have worked with for so long to become a full professional in his own right."

"Oh! Well…" Jimmy fumbled for words at the unexpected compliment. "Well, thank you Doctor Mallard. That… that means a lot coming from you. I mean, I know I've messed up plenty of times. And I'm a really bad driver with a terrible sense of direction. And I was… kind of involved with a mole in NCIS. And…"

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky interjected. "I will not dismiss the fact that you are an encouraging young pupil, but I would advise you not to delve too deeply into your past sins. It may be more prudent to come up with something that would be of more use to this case."

"Yes, of course, doctor." A few moments passed in near silence before he spoke up again. "Doctor Mallard- do you… I mean, have you ever thought that Gibbs might not be able to lead such a diverse team effectively and successfully out of this?"

Ducky regarded the young man pointedly. "I have known Jethro for a very long time, Mr. Palmer. I have seen him achieve things that no other person could possibly hope to achieve. I have confidence that he will do everything within his power to make sure that every member of this unique team comes out alive. Is there a certain individual that you have reservations for?"

"No. Well… not really." Jimmy replied unconvincingly.

"Is your concern stemming from your recent encounter with our distrusting Brazilian member, Officer Soares?"

"Uh, well… you have to admit she isn't exactly thrilled to be here." Jimmy said. "To be around… well, _anyone_."

"Which is why I advise you to exercise extreme caution when dealing with her, Mr. Palmer." Ducky responded. "I have no doubt that she would not hesitate to kill anyone she judges to be either a threat or intends to take advantage of her. In your position, I would be extremely careful about what I say to her." Finished speaking, the ME returned his attention to the Blood Devil in front of him.

But Jimmy persisted. "Doctor... do you have any idea what she meant when she said 'I'd be so much more useful with it'? Because I'm not sure I understood what she…"

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky chastised. "I would hardly like to inform Agent Gibbs that the reason we are making very little progress in our work was because you were pondering the implication of a statement thrown out to you by a young woman. Do you understand?"

"Uh, yes Doctor Mallard! Perfectly!" Jimmy immediately went back to conducting a thorough examination of the body on the table.

Had he bothered to look up, he would have seen the knowing smile creep into the face of the senior medical examiner.

_Such a promising young lad. But also so naive._

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**I've finally gotten a real Australian actor in mind as the model for Nigel: Jesse Spencer. If he hit the gym and got a more soldier's physique, he'd be perfect.**

**BTW- I originally considered making Stephanie's character an Indian, but being the patriotic Canadian that I am, I thought of the talented, gorgeous Rachel McAdams and changed the character to match McAdams' Canadian accent (yes, we Canadians have accents- they're subtle but they're there). Here's how I think the character/actor list of the team could look like:**

**Stephanie- Rachel McAdams**

**Nigel- Jesse Spencer**

**Giguère- Jean Reno**

**Maria- Alice Braga**

**Gage- Michael Clarke Duncan (not a South African I know, but he matches the build. If there's a real South African actor that fits the profile, let me know).**

**One more character development chapter to go before the action picks up again. It'll be really good! Any idea on who the next chapter may feature?**


	31. Pain Beneath the Surface

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 2214 EST**_

_Blood Devils escaped with approximately half of Camp Jefferson's naval personnel. Recommend CSIS funnel money to survivors through anonymous means/ possible Canadian corporation if traces of CSIS involvement can be avoided. Blood Devil Commander, possibly the mysterious 'Tyrant', shows a particular interest in Gibbs. Currently unclear whether his/her ability to possess Blood Devil minions the result of genetic modification, indication of a hive mind among Blood Devils or other unknown means/technology. Salvage teams collected Blood Devil/hostile civilian bodies for examination and study._

Just as Stephanie was about to send off the latest report about their progress to Director Delcourt, there was a _beep_ and an alert appeared at the bottom right of her computer screen, indicating that someone had pressed the call button just outside her door. Clicking on the alert to bring up the security camera just outside the room, she expected to see Gibbs or possibly Nigel waiting for her response, but was was slightly surprised to see that her visitor was none other than McGee. A look of slight confusion passed over her face that lasted just about a second before her regular business one took hold again. She pressed the button under her desk to unlock the door and as it slid open she looked at the junior NCIS field agent. "Agent McGee. What can I do for you?"

McGee stood before her desk, a look of both slight reluctance but also determination on his face. "I... had some things I needed to discuss with you, Stephanie. Do you have a moment?"

"I do, in fact. I'm just finishing a report." Stephanie pressed the key to send her report off then looked back at him. "I have to say I'm impressed, McGee; things have gone remarkably well so far. As far as CSIS operations go, this one of the best I've ever been a part of."

"Maybe that's because this isn't really a CSIS operation." McGee pointed out, automatically feeling the need to defend his own agency and employees, even though technically NCIS' DC office no longer existed.

"Maybe not to you or your colleagues." Stephanie responded neutral-faced. "But I report directly the Director Delcourt. As long as I do, this is still considered a CSIS operation."

"Gibbs is the one leading this team."

"And the director is guiding his path." She leaned back in her chair. "Gibbs is a very capable leader and investigator, but even he can't succeed on this mission alone. CSIS is providing valuable support to him- here and from afar."

"You might be surprised as to what he can do." McGee remarked.

"Perhaps." Stephanie replied. "But I know what my job is here and I'm going to do it. It'd be better if we all worked together for it. CSIS can provide a lot of support here; I hope no one here discards it out of pure distrust and pride."

McGee paused for a moment. He hadn't counted on this conversation turning to the subject of the Canadian intelligence agency but figured he might as well go with it; it might help him figure out how best to proceed in the future. "I get that CSIS is in this mission to stop the Blood Devils and protect Canadian personnel, but what about in general? What's CSIS' long term goal?"

Stephanie stared back at him. "The protection and advancement of the country of Canada." She replied easily. "Nothing more, nothing less. The United States has the CIA. Israel has the Mossad. The United Kingdom has MI6. CSIS is Canada's primary line of defence."

"But those agencies are more well-known and have more front-line roles." McGee argued. "They represent countries that have a lot to lose if something extreme were to happen. Why does a middle power country like Canada invest so much in their own spy services?"

"CSIS has several roles and divisions. The one presented to the public is exactly what we say it is; a low-key organization that work behind the scenes and rarely take on front line operations. That is what we show to the public. However, there are cells within CSIS which operate in a more covert and direct manner. The team here is one of those exceptions; we are called the Vimy Cell and I am its operational leader."

McGee nodded in understanding; though his knowledge of Canadian history was admittedly pretty poor, he was aware of the famous World War I battle at Vimy Ridge and the importance it had in Canada. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Did Gibbs or any other member of NCIS start telling us about every single NCIS secret there was?" The Canadian responded, casting a somewhat bemused look at him. "National security is not limited to just your country, Agent McGee. The United States has state secrets; so does Canada. Things around here are largely on a need to know basis. Besides, I'm not going to divulge CSIS secrets to a US federal agent. And I'm sure you wouldn't divulge NCIS secrets to any foreign government agent."

"Point taken." McGee said. "But you should have told us... told Gibbs at least what our chances were about this mission."

"Would you have stayed on for it? The director placed a very strict gag order on that piece of information until he was ready to release it. We needed you to see the seriousness of the situation firsthand; it made Gibbs' decision more favourable to us."

"That's hardly an example of trusting the people you deem important enough to work with."

"Trust is not something you can earn easily." Stephanie replied coolly. "I doubt that Gibbs or any other NCIS personnel fully trust CSIS. And you must understand that we are running a delicate operation. Gibbs has a history of going on his own path to achieve results; I'm sure that worked fine in NCIS, but here things are different. CSIS is directing this operation and we can't afford to have reckless behaviour derail our progress."

McGee could understand that line of thinking; in all the years, he'd worked under Gibbs, he'd seen the ex-marine walk a very thin line sometimes between what was legal and what wasn't. More often than not, he'd found himself concerned about the possible consequences, only to be tacitly ignored nine times out of ten. At the time it both annoyed and frustrated him, but now, with the main direction coming from an external source, he found himself longing for Gibbs to the sole one in charge of the op, instead of a foreign intelligence agency led by a man who had, at best, a shaky relationship with the boss.

"Seems a little odd for a middle power like Canada to tackle such a large threat almost single-handed." The junior field agent remarked before quickly adding. "Uh, not to discount your abilities or anything, but it does seem a little odd."

"And that's why it works so effectively." Stephanie said, folding her hands in front of her on her desk. "Maintaining the edge in the fight involves making sure your enemies don't know what to expect. How many times have you heard Canada taking the lead in any true conflict? How often have our contributions been overshadowed by larger, more powerful countries? CSIS is not a military organization but we know an opportunity when we see it. We have the skills, the knowledge and the capabilities to lead this mission; national pride is only part of the picture for us. Canada lacks the military might of other world powers, but what we lack in numbers, we make up for in effectiveness and intelligence. Think of North America as a human body; America is without question the muscle, the pure unbridled strength of the continent. Canada is the brain, the part responsible for accurately finding and eliminating threats in the most effective way."

"This isn't a military operation though."

"Maybe not, but this _is_ close enough to one. NCIS, an American agency, is providing a significant portion of the muscle on this job; Canada is the brain in this operation, finding our enemies in order to eliminate them." Stephanie paused for a second, staring right at McGee when she spoke again. "And the brain controls the muscle."

That was definitely something to think about, McGee privately mused. Stephanie certainly wasn't one to hold back her opinions about her country and its spy service; he wasn't sure how much he agreed with them, but he wasn't about to get into an argument about it. They had much bigger issues than arguing over who's country was better than who's.

Stephanie seemed to have the same sentiment. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Agent McGee? You said there were several things on your mind."

"Oh... yes, there is." The MIT graduate suddenly remembered what had only a few minutes ago come to fruition in his mind. "I understand that CSIS gathered quite a bit of Blood Devil technology from Camp Jefferson after the attack and sent them over here?"

"That's correct. We recovered several samples of their weapons and other technology that were abandoned after the base was liberated. They were sent down to our tech lab; we have people working on them now, but it's complicated and difficult- even for our experts. Why do you ask?"

"I've been thinking that I could take a look at what was collected and see if I can find anything that could help. The technology is highly advanced but I bet it's understandable. I might be able to do something your techs might not; find a way to counter their technology or turn it against them. It's not a certainty, but I think it'd be worth a shot."

Stephanie was silent for a moment, her face, though neutral, showing that she was carefully considering the proposal. "Hmm." Her eyebrows scrunched in concentration slightly. "The technology _could_ be used to our advantage if we could figure out how it worked." She murmured quietly to herself, looking up at him. "But it is complex enough that it causing our own people difficulty. What makes you think you would have better luck?"

"Because I have knowledge on how a lot of systems work." McGee argued. "And because I've been doing this a long time. Computers aren't the only technology I've handled in my life. If there's a chance it could help us succeed- or survive- we have to take that."

Stephanie stared at the man for a few more seconds. She couldn't deny that the man's tech skills were highly advanced; Gibbs would never have kept him around in the beginning had he not been useful. And it would be foolish of her to dismiss a possible opportunity like this; resources of this nature rarely came around so easily. If McGee could do something that their own techs couldn't, he should be allowed to.

"Very well." She said finally. "I will give the order to the tech lab that you are to be given full access to any technology we find and acquire. If you can make sense of it, it'll be a great advancement for us. A pity you're not Canadian, Agent McGee; CSIS could use a man of your initiative and talents full time."

McGee didn't say anything in response to that; after all, he'd had enough offers from every known intelligence agency to leave NCIS and come work for them, mostly behind the scenes in the tech department. Even if he _was_ Canadian, he'd react the same way he always had and turn them down; a transfer would mean he'd likely never be a field agent again. But that comment brought another thought into the front of his mind; one that had been there for quite some time yet had always got pushed back by a more pressing one. Now seemed as good a time as ever to settle it.

"What did CSIS do that made you so loyal to them?"

He expected her to avoid the question, say it was none of his business or that it was not important to the mission, but was somewhat surprised by her response. "Hm." She said, studying him intently. "I guess you deserve to know."

She indicated to the sofa on the right side of the room. As McGee sat down, she rose and made her way over to the couch as well. "Well, you should know first of all that I've had extensively more training than any other agent in CSIS' existence. Not all of it my decision, but I take advantage of it." She sat down on the opposite end of the couch and faced the NCIS agent. "And I think it's payed off in the long run."

"What kind of training have you had?" McGee asked.

"Apart from my standard RCMP conditioning, I'm at an advanced level of several types of hand-to-hand combat from various special forces. My memory is one level just underneath being eidetic, I'm fluent in six different languages and my interrogation and counter-interrogation skills are both equally advanced. Combine that with a natural ability to adapt to just about every scenario one can encounter and..." She shrugged, "Well, it's pretty impressive really."

"You sure don't lack for confidence." McGee replied.

"There's nothing wrong with being comfortable with the facts." Stephanie said. "And as I've said, it's paid off; my skills and training are the reason I'm allowed to oversee the most dangerous and delicate of CSIS operations. CSIS paid for almost all of it; I wouldn't be here had they not taken an interest in me. And I did a damn good job of learning."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you've trained yourself to be perfect in every way."

"Maybe," Stephanie shrugged. "But I'm not. I'm as human as anyone else here, McGee; I still make mistakes just like everyone else. And when I do, the consequences of my mistakes are very severe. I try to avoid them as best as possible, but perfection is something no amount of training can achieve."

"So how did you become involved in all of this?"

"I joined the RCMP right out of high school. Spent seven years rising through the ranks, transferring around the country and seeing more ugliness than I ever thought one person could. At the same time, I earned my undergraduate and Masters degrees in criminology from the University of Toronto; very difficult to balance but I managed to do it. I went from patrol to narcotics to sex crimes, doing the best I absolutely could do. It was never enough- mostly because I was trying to achieve a goal of perfection. Eventually I moved into the elite Emergency Response Unit and rose to become leader of my assault team. After three years, I was approached by Director Delcourt who had heard of my past performances and offered me special training and a front line role in CSIS. I decided to take it, and here we are."

"There's got to be more to it than that. I doubt you would just pick up and walk away from something you'd spent ten years in just because the director asked you to." McGee knew he was pushing the limits with this statement, but he was curious about the motivations behind a woman that few people seemed to know much about.

"You're right; it wasn't as simple as that." Stephanie drew herself up and crossed her legs. "During my career in the RCMP there was a certain... issue I was trying to deal with. A certain case that I had been pursuing for a long time but had failed to solve. I had been trying to close it for years but was never able to. When the director made his offer to me two years ago, he told me that he could help me close it once and for all." She folded her hands and looked straight at him. "I asked him if he was serious and he told me he was dead serious; he provided me with all the details and offered to give me the skills to surpass any possible challenge. I accepted."

"And did you get what you wanted?" McGee asked, paying close attention.

"Yes; after my advanced training, he provided me with the details and resources I needed and told me to make sure I closed it once and for all." She sat up straight and looked him dead in the eye. "And I did."

There was no uncertainty in her voice as she said it- no hesitancy. There was no question in McGee's mind that when she said she had taken care of it, she meant it. Though he was left with the question of exactly what the issue had been and what exactly she had done to finish it, something in his brain told him it would not be wise to voice these questions- not now at any rate. He got the feeling that the answers were not simple or easy, and trying to push her to explain further would only backfire.

Instead he said, "I assume the director approves of all your skills, even those you had before joining CSIS."

"Of course. He fully endorses anything that advances Canadian strength and influence. I suppose that's why he's placed so much attention on your team; your loyalty may be to the United States, but Canada is just about the strongest ally you have. Cooperation works in the best interests for both countries, but especially for us; it's often the smaller countries who have the most untapped potential."

"And the defining moment for Canada and CSIS will be when it puts an end to the abduction of all these naval personnel across the globe?"

"Precisely. Though considering how difficult it has been to get to this point, I wouldn't surprised if it only gets harder from here on out." In truth, Stephanie was already convinced that their job was about to get much more difficult; she still remembered how much resistance CSIS had encountered when they decided to undertake the operation in the beginning.

**NCIS**

"_This is completely unacceptable!" Stephanie threw down a file onto the desk in frustration. "According to the latest updates, Ottawa is refusing to allow CSIS full access to the information on the naval personnel gone missing. They claim it's to do with 'overstretching resources'." She stared at the man behind the desk. "It's a clear case of short-sightedness; they don't want to deal with the issue so therefore it doesn't exist."_

_Sitting behind the desk in his chair, Director Delcourt poured himself a glass of water while studying the file in front of him. "It shouldn't come as a surprise the politicians are ignoring this issue. They want to focus on well-known issues; issues the public knows and has concerns about. Something like this is a little out of their league, even if it seems to be fitting a pattern happening worldwide."_

"_So that leaves us where?" Stephanie crossed her arms. "If the government is unwilling to make the necessary decisions, then we need to take a more front line role, even if it's not approved of by Ottawa. We can't stand by while these disappearances continue; three of our own bases here have vanished without so much as a trace. Something must be done."_

"_I agree; CSIS is in a position to do what the government and the military can't. But it's not that simple; other countries have had similar disappearances. None of them except Australia have agreed with our assessment that it is no simple coincidence. Or they're afraid that we'll try to put ourselves in a higher position than normal. I suppose that's why the US hasn't gotten involved; they've lost no bases so far and I'm not sure that even with their own naval investigative service, they would be open to our intelligence. Not even the one based in DC, led by Leroy Jethro Gibbs." He leaned back in his chair. "A shame considering the man's unique skills; despite our differences, he could be a powerful ally if he knew the scope of everything."_

"_But he and his team are dealing with a situation in Mexico." Stephanie responded. "Mexico! We both know that the real threat is not there. Whoever is responsible for these abductions is still out there." _

_Delcourt took a sip of water. "And it's up to us to stop them." He replied crisply._

_Stephanie uncrossed her arms. "The NCIS higher-ups will never trust CSIS enough to work alongside them; they'll never accept our help. But Gibbs..." A new look came into her eyes. "Any NCIS personnel would follow him to the ends of the earth. He's an anomaly; a damn legend. Anyone who wouldn't follow us would certainly follow him, given all he's accomplished. But he's just one man."_

_The director put his glass to the side and merely looked up at her with a blank look on his face. "Even his own team, talented as they may be, wouldn't be as effective as they usually are without him to lead. And that's just the beginning." She looked into his eyes, her words as serious as her face. "Without a clear, strong leader, we won't have any chance of stopping who's responsible. Gibbs is our best chance; without him, Canada might well be lost. And then after that, who knows how many other countries? If we lose Gibbs, the entire world as we know it may not exist for much longer."_

_Delcourt drew himself up, released a pent-up breath and stared back at his most important agent. When he spoke, there was no hesitation or uncertainty in his voice. _

"_Then see to it that we _don't_ lose him."_

**NCIS**

"You've had your eye on us for all that time?" McGee asked in astonishment.

"Of course. We always keep a close eye on all of our resources. CSIS is not nearly as bad as you may believe us to be, McGee. We may work in shadows much more than you do, but we know how to do our job very well. And we know when we ought to work with others for the greater good."

McGee nodded, though it was more in acknowledgement than understanding. The whole spy/intelligence issue was starting to confuse even his brain. "So everything we do _here_," he motioned generally in the air with a hand, "is all for the greater good?"

Stephanie nodded. "We work for today so that the masses are able to wake up tomorrow. And to make sure that what happened in the past does not happen in the future. How many families can we spare the anguish of losing a loved one?"

"Families?" McGee's eyes narrowed as something was set off in his brain. Seconds later they widened as realization struck him. "Oh my God!"

"What is it?"

"My family!" McGee stared at her in horror. "Oh my God, I can't believe I forgot! What are they thinking right now? They surely heard of the attack on the naval yard and I haven't talked to any of them since then! What if they think I'm dead? My mom and sister are going to be hysterical! My dad is probably going sick with worry! What am I...?"

"Agent McGee," Stephanie interrupted the steady flow. "It's alright. You don't need to worry about your family. Everything's fine."

"What do you mean?"

"We've taken care of it. As of right now, your family knows that you survived the attack, that you are perfectly fine and that you are currently working the case with the rest of your team discretely to determine who is responsible. They do not have the details of the operation."

"You... you mean they don't know that..."

"They don't know this is a much more serious mission, no. But rest assured they are in good spirits. Your father has been actively trying to press for more details and trying to contact you on his own since he first heard the news, but so far CSIS has kept them under wraps. I'm afraid that until this job is done, any contact with friends or family is not possible due to security and safety concerns."

"Safety for who?" McGee asked pointedly. "Me or my family?"

Stephanie looked at him coolly. "Both. For now, you have my word that everyone in your family is safe and secure. Even your dog- Jethro, isn't it?- has been put in their care."

Jethro. McGee had almost completely forgotten about the German Shepard he had lived with for such a long time. Now that he remembered, he was really starting to miss his furry friend.

"The Blood Devils clearly know who am I since they attacked our team personally." He said. "You're certain that my family's under no threat of attack from them?"

"I can tell you for certain that CSIS is keeping a close eye on them and will make sure they stay out of danger. If we do believe they're under threat, I promise that we'll drag them away by force if necessary to keep them alive."

Though McGee wasn't entirely assured by that, he did relax noticeably; some of the tension went out of his shoulders and he sat back in the sofa, staring into space. "It's funny," he said. "I never truly thought about what I may leave behind for my family if I were ever killed in the line of duty. I mean memories, sure but... I never realized just how significant they are." A small smile cracked his face. "I still remember the first time my sister cut her knee when she was trying to skip rope. She was six and she thought it was the worst injury she could ever possibly have. I promised her that if she didn't cry I'd buy her an ice cream. Well, of course, she loved ice cream so she immediately pretended that it never happened after I cleaned her up. And afterwards, she got a big double scoop of coffee ice cream."

He shook his head. "I'll still never forget the look on her face when she heard the jingle of the ice cream truck for the very first time." Putting his lips together, almost as if from pure memory, he began to whistle a soft tune; the slow, unmistakable jingle that was synonymous with an approaching ice cream truck.

Stephanie's heartbeat immediately tripled in speed. A sweat broke out over her whole body; her pale skin went even paler. Her lip automatically began to quiver as the memories immediately began bombarding her mind.

"_Steph, come on, can't I have an ice cream?"_

"_Alice, you know we're not supposed to before dinner."_

"_Come on Steph, quick before Mom and Dad come back!"_

No... _No..._

"_Hello, children..."_

And then she could hear it again; the screaming. The horrible screaming.

_Her _screaming...

McGee was suddenly pulled from his memories and whistling as the Canadian suddenly and abruptly jumped up off the couch. He stared up at her in surprise. "Stephanie?" Seeing the change in her expression, he stood up and faced her. "What's wrong?"

"Why are you whistling that?" Her tone was much less composed than it almost always had been. It was now much more demanding. Panicked even. "What are you trying to do?"

McGee's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Do? I don't understand; I'm not trying to do anything. I'm just recalling a good memory, that's all."

"Why that particular memory? Did you hack into my profile?"

"What? No! I just..."

"Get out."

McGee blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Get out." Stephanie's eyes had suddenly turned very strange; a mixture of rage and fear. "Get out, get out!" She suddenly reached behind her and swept the lamp off her desk where it landed with a thunderous crash. "Get out!"

"Stephanie..."

"GET OUT!"

"What are you...?"

"_GET. OUT!_"

In a flash of rage, Stephanie grabbed her SIG Sauer of the corner of her desk and pointed it directly at him. "If you're not out of this room in five seconds," she said lowly and dangerously, the weapon barely steady in her hands, "I swear to _God_ I will kill you..."

McGee stood frozen in place for a second, his feelings of fear restricting his throat and preventing him from saying anything else. He felt his own heart begin to race in panic and he struggled to swallow his fear. Looking her directly in the eye, he took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, Stephanie."

He turned and walked towards the door, passing through it as it slid open. As he walked back out into the hallway, it promptly closed again, the _click_ signalling that it was once again secure and closed off from the outer world.

Stephanie's hands, which had been trembling the whole time they had been holding the weapon, now began to noticeably shake as she slowly lowered the weapon between her legs. Her legs subconsciously moved backwards, backing her into the bedroom adjoining her office. Her back came up against the wall right beside her bed and as she sank down to the floor, her hands released their hold on the gun. Curled up in a defensive posture, knees close to her chest, she raised her hands to her face.

The barely suppressed sound of uncontrolled sobbing immediately followed.

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback/constructive criticism!**

**The action will pick back up in the next few chapters! Reviews are the motivating force to write them faster!**


	32. Three Dossiers and an Insubordination

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: **_**RAF Northolt****_- Royal Air Force station; Ruislip, Middlesex, Greater London, England, United Kingdom- 0705 GMT_**

Tony stared at his boss. "Seriously, boss?" He asked incredulously. "This is for real? No joking? A huge coincidence maybe?"

_Thwack!_

"Do I ever joke or believe in coincidences, DiNozzo?"

Tony rubbed his head. "Uh, no boss. Stupid question. Shouldn't have asked."

"Remember that from now on."

"Got it, boss."

"I am not sure what to think about it, Gibbs." Ziva remarked as she joined the two men by the exit; all three of them kitted out in their field clothes after the long eight hour flight from DC to London. "The likelihood that all three of the individuals we are looking to recruit in the same city in the same time is extremely small; perhaps this was arranged by CSIS beforehand and they merely did not tell us about it."

"Doubt it; they may have their secrets, but this is not vital to their national security." Gibbs shook his head. "This is something that they would have mentioned."

"Then you think that they are here for the same purpose?"

"Not sure, but we're going to find out."

Their conversation was halted by the arrival of the rest of the field team. Stephanie lead the group, her face unreadable of anything except authority.

"We've arrived in good time. Our plane can be refuelled here and should be prepared by the time we return. I estimate at least our recruitment missions should take at least five hours, perhaps less depending on how quickly we move."

"And all three of our targets just happen to be in the same city at the same time?" Gibbs pressed, his voice filled with scepticism.

"It's a surprise even for us," Nigel responded, "but it's not entirely a shock. The director emphasized the need to get our resources as quickly and efficiently as possible. I wouldn't be surprised if he chose these particular individuals based on their proximity; why miss an opportunity where the people you need are in the exact same place?"

"So three super-skilled warriors just happened to be in London in time for our arrival?" Tony asked.

"The director is very good at what he does, Agent DiNozzo." Stephanie said briskly. "He's fully aware that time is of the utmost importance. If he learned that three highly skilled individuals that could be beneficial to our cause were in the same place at the same time, he would have seized on the opportunity."

"And you don't find that even the slightest bit ironic?" Gibbs asked pointedly. He knew the Canadian's loyalty to CSIS and its rather enigmatic director was practically unshakeable but could her views really be that narrow as to accept everything that they gave her without question?

"The main issues right now is to get who we came here for." She responded undaunted. "The specifics of how we acquired the information can be looked at more closely when we've accomplished that. For now, we have a job that we need to accomplish."

Maria snorted. "Right. Three more killers handpicked by the CSIS boss himself. How generous of him to make life so much easier for us."

"I'm sure he has good reason for picking the people he does." McGee spoke up.

Maria snorted again. "Sure, side with the CSIS _puta_. We will see which one of us is right in the end. All I know is I'm not going to let myself get fucked when I'm not looking. Can you say the same for yourself?"

"No one is going to 'fuck' anyone else as long you follow orders." Stephanie replied coolly to the Brazilian. "And I suggest that from this point that you _do_ follow orders."

"Really?" Maria got right up in Stephanie's face. "Is that a threat, princess?"

"If you start thinking about screwing us over, then yes it is." The Canadian responded unwaveringly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to try and threaten me?"

"Enough!" Gibbs barked, and his voice drew the attention of everyone around him. "No one's going to be screwing over anyone, ya hear? That's a damn order! Fall in line, both of you!"

Maria gave one final withering look to Stephanie, who returned it icily, before the two women joined their companions in gathering around the ex-marine. Gage gave an amused chuckle as he stared at the Brazilian before returning his attention to Gibbs.

"Now listen closely- we have three individuals we've been given dossiers of, all of which are reported to be in the city of London at this very moment. We need to move quickly in order to make sure that none of them disappear before we can catch up them. Last thing I want to do is go chasing people all over the world; we got enough problems as it is."

"Aw Gibbs, you don't mean that!" Abby called from the cockpit. "I mean, sure I've still got some kinks to work out, but my flying can't be that bad!"

"It's not; I'm the one who taught you how to fly the damn thing, remember?" McCrae responded. "He just doesn't want to admit that someone else can do something better than him."

Tony let out something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. A well-placed elbow from Ziva quickly silenced it.

"According to CSIS, our MI6 contact here in Northolt is a Robert Lake. He's giving us an update on the status of the three targets. You were all briefed on the dossiers before we landed?" He barked.

As a chorus of affirmative responses emerged from the team, Gibbs himself thought back to the three profiles that Stephanie had provided him via Director Delcourt; he had memorized each and every one and his hopes that they would be any more conventional or stable than the others had pretty much gone up in smoke.

**Dossier #1**

**Name: **_**Park Jun-Tae**_

**Gender: **_**Male**_

**Date of Birth: _April 5, 1972_**

**Place of Birth: _Seoul, South Korea_**

**Nationality: _South Korean_**

**Education: _Unknown (reports indicate many years spent in Japan for unknown specific education/training)_**

**Attributes: **

_**- Quick short-range kill specialist**_

**_- Expert sniper_**

**Analysis: _Park Jun-Tae is a South Korean national rumoured to have trained since childhood in Japan as an elite freelance assassin, proficient in long-range sniping kills, short-range personal kills and covert infiltration. Though his activities show a steady slowdown in recent years, CSIS intelligence suggests he has taken a contract for an unknown target in London._**

_Another assassin_, Gibbs thought to himself. _Just what we need._ He remembered when Ziva had first joined the team several years ago and how difficult it had been to readjust to her presence- not just because of the circumstances but also because of what she was. It had taken a long time for Gibbs to truly accept the Mossad officer as a member of the team and she was an assassin working for an ally government. An assassin who killed for money was something completely different.

**Dossier #2**

**Name: **_**Carolyn West**_

**Gender: **_**Female**_

**Date of Birth: **_**June 12, 1948**_

**Place of Birth: **_**London, England, United Kingdom**_

**Nationality: **_**British**_

**Education: **_**Unknown**_

**Attributes: **

_**- Decades of experience in both conventional and unconventional combat tactics**_

_**- Extensive weapons training**_

**Analysis: _Carolyn West is a Paladin, a rare member of a British non-military combat group that is unassociated with yet tolerated by the government and trained in enhanced combat tactics alongside __standard weapons. She has recently and abruptly returned to the UK after an absence of several years for an unknown purpose._**

Gibbs had never before heard of a Paladin- Chloe Summers had helpfully pointed out that it was another word for 'protector'- but had already decided that he didn't like the sound of it. Any time he heard of a group or individual with a strange title that was not 'officially' connected to a government, he knew trouble was likely not far behind. In this case, that trouble was going to be headed straight for him- and that was the _last_ thing he needed right now.

**Dossier #3**

**Name: _Alexei Kharkov_**

**Gender: _Male_**

**Date of Birth: _November 2, 1955_**

**Place of Birth:_ Stalingrad, Russian SFSR, Soviet Union (now Volgograd, Volgograd Oblast, Russia)_**

**Nationality: _Russian_**

**Education: _Unknown_**

**Attributes:**

_**- Expert in both personal and small unit combat**_

_**- Unparalleled skills as a soldier, mercenary and bounty hunter**_

_**- Renowned for determination to accomplish the job, regardless of the cost**_

**Analysis: _Alexei Kharkov is undeniably the most effective and feared mercenary in the world, rumoured to have seen combat in Afghanistan, Chechnya and other areas of conflict. His services have been negotiated by CSIS at an extremely high cost. He is currently awaiting recruitment in London._**

A freelance assassin, a non-governmental warrior and a mercenary/bounty hunter who likely had no qualms about killing anyone in his way to accomplish his mission. _This job just keeps getting better and better_. Gibbs supposed this was Delcourt's way of telling him this mission was important enough that an individual's personality and sense of morality were irrelevant as long as they could help accomplish it. It certainly wasn't _his_ choice of team members, that was for damn sure.

"Question." Giguère said, holding up a finger. "Where exactly are these people supposed to be located? Dossiers do not indicate their location within the city."

"We weren't given specifics on that," Nigel responded. "We just had their general location in the world. MI6 had the lead on gathering their specific locations in the city."

"Better hope that Lake's here to give them to us." Gibbs took a step out the airlock and down the attached stairs, leaving no more room for discussion. The rest of the team quickly followed him.

On the tarmac outside, a man in his late forties with thinning brown hair and dressed in a suit stood just a few metres away. He held out his hand as Gibbs approached. "Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Agent Lake?" Gibbs responded, giving him a brief but firm handshake.

"Glad you got here so early. It's only, what? 2:00 a.m. Washington time?"

"Means I'm up late today," Gibbs responded, ignoring a barely suppressed yawn from Tony at the mention of the early hour. "What have you got?"

"Millions of tourists, piss-poor weather and three unauthorized killers being sought out by a US-Canadian-Australian intelligence alliance." The Englishman said. "Except for the last part, pretty much a standard day all around."

"Talk to me, Lake. We don't have time for pleasantries."

"Damn right. We've got some killing to do!" Gage proclaimed proudly. The MI6 agent passed an eye over the massive South African before going on.

"MI6 has located, at CSIS' request, the individuals here in London that you're looking for. We have all the information you need. Question is: what the hell do you want them for?"

"Classified information," Stephanie immediately said in a business tone. "CSIS' mission, CSIS' mandate, CSIS' authority. That's what was agreed upon."

Lake raised an eyebrow. "First time I ever heard that coming from CSIS, but alright. We've managed to locate subjects Park, West and Kharkov in the city. We've got vehicles here waiting to take you where you need to go."

"Which is?" Tony asked.

"Which _are._" Lake corrected. "They're in separate locations. Our intelligence indicates that two of them are currently relatively near one another, but we don't know whether they're in contact or it's just a coincidence."

"Don't believe in coincidences, Lake." Gibbs said.

"You'll have to take that up with them yourself. What we do know is we have only made contact with one of them. The other two are totally dark communication-wise. They don't know you're coming and I doubt very much they're going to like it when you show up. But that's something else you'll just have to take up with them when you meet up."

"Which one is the one with which you have established contact?" Ziva asked.

"The Russian- Kharkov. He's waiting for you near the East End. It's also the general location of where we believe Carolyn West is. No idea why she's there, but considering it's not the most friendly part of the city, I imagine she could find all sorts of criminal activities to intervene in if she wanted."

"And Park?" Gibbs pressed.

"We have good reason to believe he's in the financial district- right in the heart of Canary Wharf. We believe he's accepted a contract to assassinate a major corporate executive in her own business tower, but we have no way of confirming it without possibly alerting him."

"Who's the target exactly?"

"Would you get in the vehicle, Agent Gibbs?" Lake indicated to a van just behind him. "I can explain everything to you, but I'm sure you rather hear it on the way. Plus, we can't afford to just stand here and waste time."

"Gibbs," Ziva interjected, "I believe it would be more effective if we were to separate into two groups. That way, we will not stretch ourselves too thin yet we will be able to approach all the targets simultaneously."

"Ziver?"

"If we can hit all the areas at the same time, it would decrease our chances of missing them and having to track them down. You said you did not want to waste time finding them yourself; this as good an opportunity as any to avoid that."

"And?" Gibbs pressed.

"If MI6's intelligence is correct, then it will be a simple matter of one team picking up Kharkov and then moving on to tracking down West nearby. At the same time, another smaller team can actively pursue Park."

"Why smaller?" McGee asked. "Doesn't tracking down an elite assassin on a job need all the manpower we can spare?"

"No; in this case, it is precisely the opposite." Ziva countered. "If Park is targeting a corporate executive in her own tower, then movement will be restricted and combat will be close. The fewer people that we can get through that area, the better. And this is almost certainly guaranteed to involve combat, whereas with the others there is no guarantee of that." She turned back to the team leader. "You will need to approach that as a military assignment with a select few individuals watching your six."

Gibbs nodded. "Good enough for me. Ziva, you and Warner come with me to track down Park. The rest of you find Kharkov, make sure he doesn't give us any trouble and then track down West; convince her that we need her help. DiNozzo, you're team lead for that."

"Got it, boss."

"_No._"

Everyone halted at the sound of Stephanie's voice. Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he, along with everyone else, stared at the young Canadian. "Excuse me?"

"I said 'no'," Stephanie repeated coldly, taking an unhesitating step towards the team leader. "Agent DiNozzo will not be taking charge of the second team; _I _will."

Gibbs gave her a hard stare. "Really?" He got right up in the face of the CSIS officer. "And just what exactly makes you think that, _Officer_ Brewer?"

"The fact that I'm second-in-command of this team," She responded unflinchingly, staring up at the ex-marine. "You may not like it, Gibbs, but this is not an NCIS operation; it's a CSIS one. And as long as it is, I am the second highest member here, not DiNozzo."

"And you're outranked- by _me_." Gibbs said tersely. "As long as I'm here, I give the orders."

"As the highest ranking CSIS agent here, the director gave me the ability to go against those orders if they are counterproductive to CSIS or undermine CSIS authority on this operation. And your blatant disregard for our authority here affirms that. I'm invoking my ability to override your orders and relieve Agent DiNozzo as your temporary second-in-command."

"Even if you could," Gibbs said, not giving an inch, "what makes you think that you would be better suited for team lead?"

"My record speaks for itself; my experience and skills have been proven time and time again. I don't need to go into detail about that." Stephanie said. "Besides, we have no idea what's going on with our recruits in the East End; you need someone who has dealt with a wide-range of situations, has proven themselves as a leader and can handle changes on a dime. Agent DiNozzo may have dealt with that before but this is too important to risk it. I am the best option here and you know it."

Gibbs stared unblinkingly at Stephanie, his gaze never wavering. His bright blue eyes were met with a cold, defiant stare that neither blinked nor wavered as Stephanie stared right back. There was a tense, uneasy silence as no one else dared to interrupt; anyone who did so was likely to be on the receiving end of not one, but two angry and dangerous individuals. Even Tony was restrained enough to stay silent.

Finally, Gibbs spoke. "Alright," he said, turning towards the group. "DiNozzo, you and Ziva are with me; we'll travel with Agent Lake in pursuit of Park Jun-Tae. The rest of you are under Brewer's command; find West and Kharkov."

He went back and stared directly at Stephanie. "But you damn well better know what you're doing. You're the one who brought us back for a very specific reason. You screw this up and the Blood Devils will be the _least_ of your problems."

"That's not going to happen." Stephanie replied frostily. "Not as long as I'm in charge."

"Better hope not." The team leader said, leaning in close. "Because if you're wrong, you won't be here long enough to send another report to Ottawa."

He motioned towards the vans behind them. "Move out."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!**

**There is no such thing as a Paladin (as far as I know). It's my own invention.**

**Vote for your favourite OC in the poll on my profile!**

**More action coming up!**


	33. Justifiable Assassination?

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: London, England, United Kingdom- 0715 GMT**_

"Alright Lake, what's going on here?" Gibbs asked from the front passenger seat of the van as it sped along the A40 Road in the direction of Canary Wharf.

"MI6 has gathered intelligence that the man you're after, Park Jun-Tae, is in London right now and has accepted a contract to assassinate a corporate executive in her own executive tower in the Canary Wharf at some point today." The Briton replied without taking his eyes off the road. The sun had not yet fully come up and there was surprising little traffic on the road.

"I got that part. What I want to know is _who_ he's being paid to kill and _when_."

"What? Don't you want to find some surprises along the way?" Lake said with a barely suppressed smirk.

"Not when the safety of my team is at stake and the long-term goal is so important." The ex-marine replied impatiently. "I don't know how things are run permanently behind a desk, but out in the field things work differently. Now are we going to have problems before we even get there?"

"Alright, alright, I'm just trying to lighten the mood. Don't go getting your knickers in a twist." Lake responded. Tony opened his mouth to make a smart remark but thought better of it when Gibbs shot him a look in the rear-mirror; one that said 'one word out of you and you're going out the window'. "I don't have every last detail but I know someone who can. There's a former security operative who used to work for her until recently by the name of Michael Hathaway; if anyone can give you what you need to know, it's him. And I can give you a brief summary of what we know right now."

"Well?" Gibbs' tone was even less patient than the last one.

"Park Jun-Tae has been contracted to assassinate Sheila Rutherford. She's the CEO of Rutherford Industries, a former diplomatic emissary and one of the richest women under thirty in all of Britain. Add that to the fact that she's quite good looking and has men fawning over her left and right and well, you've got yourself quite a favourite for any tabloids bold enough to pursue her."

"I'm more interested in why someone felt the need to take her out in the first place."

"Yeah well, I can't tell you that. Nor can I tell you when it'll take place other than today. But I do know someone who can. Someone who can fill in all the details that even we don't have."

"What about the time the assassination's supposed to take place?" Tony interjected. "Any details on that?"

"Tony, assassins do not generally advertise the exact time at which they are planning to eliminate their target." Ziva said in an almost disbelieving tone.

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you Zee-vah?"

"Yes, I would. In fact, I am strongly considering planning your assassination in the very near future."

"You wouldn't do that, Zee; you'd miss me too much."

"Would you like to bet on that right now?"

"Can it! Both of you!" Gibbs growled.

"Sorry, boss."

"I apologize, Gibbs."

"I get that you're all under a lot of stress right now, but just be patient." Lake said as he guided the van around a couple of cars in opposite lanes without missing a beat; despite his lack of necessary information, the man could carry out a conversation while driving at quite high speeds without ever breaking a sweat. "We'll be arriving in Canary Wharf in about fifty minutes and I doubt very much anything will happen between now and then."

"And just how the hell can you possibly be so sure?" Gibbs demanded.

"Trust me; I may not be the young, energetic young agent I once was, but I have my own ways of knowing things. You can trust me on that."

"Better hope so, Lake." The team leader stared out the window. "Can't afford to miss this; it's one shot or nothing. You ready to do some real work today, DiNozzo?" No reply. "DiNozzo?"

His attention was drawn to the back of the vehicle when he heard a low rumbling noise. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he noticed Tony's heading laying against the nearby window, his eyes closed fast asleep, faintly snoring and completely oblivious to the real world.

Ziva caught Gibbs' look in the mirror, gave a curt nod and delivered a sharp slap to the back of the ex-cop's head. Tony jolted awake, his eyes wide as he looked around wildly. "On your six, boss!" Looking to his right, he observed that it was not the team leader who had abruptly woken him up but Ziva, who wore a very satisfied look as she leaned back in her chair.

"Good to see you're back with us, DiNozzo." Gibbs replied, staring straight ahead. "I'd hate to have to put out a contract on _you_ for extreme laziness."

"Indeed," Ziva continued. "And it would such a shame to have to accept that contract just when I thought you might actually be starting to grow up and mature. On the other hand, your 'untimely demise' might leave a spot open in the senior field position for someone like... myself."

"Okay, _first_ of all, Zee-vah," Tony interjected, "this team wouldn't be _half_ as good without me. Second, if _anyone_ gets the senior field position, it'd be McGee; believe it or not, he outranks you."

"Am I hearing this right, Tony? You actually support McGee on something? That is indeed worrisome; perhaps while we are here, you should see a doctor to make sure you are not sick."

"Hardy har har," Tony grumbled. "I already _am_ sick, Ziva; sick of _you_!"

In the front, Lake wore a small smirk of amusement. Next to him, Gibbs gave a deep sigh of exasperation.

This was going to be one _hell_ of a long day.

* * *

It was a good fifty minutes later when the van finally pulled up to Cabot Square in the Canary Wharf. By that time, Gibbs was on the brink of strangling both of his agents; they'd been arguing non-stop since the departure from Northolt, and even after the numerous threats from Gibbs they hadn't been able to cool it for five minutes. Their only saving grace was that Gibbs needed their help in tracking down the assassin; otherwise he would have thrown both of them out of the van a _long_ time ago.

Lake led the way as they walked across the plaza towards a cafe called the Cafe Brera and stepped inside.

The place was only about half-full, with various people in both business and casual wear helping themselves to breakfast- mostly tea or coffee and danishes. Tony just barely was able to stop himself from making a crack about tea and crumpets- mainly due to the fact that the portly woman behind the front counter was within earshot, was carrying a large metal frying pan in one hand and was observing them rather closely; the response from her, he decided quickly, would not be very friendly.

Lake led the group to a spot near the back before stopping. He turned to Gibbs and then indicated with his hand to a window-side table near the back occupied by a burly black-haired man in his mid-thirties wearing street clothes, his attention seemingly fully occupied by the newspaper in front of him.

Gibbs looked at the MI6 agent expectantly. "You going to make the introductions or not?"

"And deprive you of the honours?" Lake asked. "Hardly."

Gibbs merely grunted and shook his head before indicating to Tony and Ziva to follow him. While Lake stayed in his own stop, the three NCIS agents walked over to the table. Gibbs got right up beside the man. "Micheal Hathaway?"

"Who the hell's asking?" The Briton said without looking away from the newspaper.

Gibbs bent down and leaned in close. "Not the best way to greet the three heavily armed people who just asked you your name." He said in a slightly lower tone.

The man looked up at him. "Not the first time it's happened to me. Why should this one be any different?"

"I'm betting that the others didn't try to have a conversation before trying to kill you. Or tell you that they need your help."

"Well, that's a new one." The man leaned back in his chair. "And just who the bloody hell might you be? You don't look like the rival corporate/underworld type."

"US federal agents. Naval Criminal Investigative Services." Gibbs showed his badge, not bothering to explain that the agency's branch he worked for had been obliterated. "Special Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo and David."

"Well fuck me sideways." Ziva raised an eyebrow at the Englishman's choice of words, causing Tony to grin in amusement. "The Yanks finally come back to the motherland over two hundred years after they left. Is this going to be a permanent visit or one of those shock-and-awe hits you're so found of?"

"Be nice to them, Michael." Lake took that opportunity to walk up to the table beside Gibbs. "Their bomber is parked far away; they come in peace- for once."

"Really?" Hathaway slowly stood up and Gibbs automatically readied himself for a confrontation. "I wasn't aware that you ever became friendly with anyone, Bobby- let alone on the other side of the Atlantic."

"Could say the very same thing about you," Lake responded. "Sitting on your arse, all alone. You've been through, what? Two divorces in five years?"

"Ah yes, that reminds me. I forgot to give you something the last time we met." Without warning, Hathaway suddenly ploughed his fist directly into the MI6 agent's face, who stumbled backwards into Tony and Ziva. "Theresa isn't going to be any less of a cold-hearted bitch to you than she was to me."

Gibbs grabbed hold of Hathaway, pinning him to the table, while Tony and Ziva moved to push Lake away and help their boss. "It's alright," he motioned to the three Americans, holding his jaw. Gibbs waited for a moment for slowly letting him go. "I wouldn't be so sure about that if last night was anything to go on, mate."

"Enjoy it while you can," Hathaway replied. "When she starts seeing anything but your wanker, it won't matter how good a shagging you give her. Everything you do will be wrong in her eyes."

"I'm willing to take my chances." Lake said.

A couple of tense moments passed, with the two Britons standing facing each other; Gibbs, Tony and Ziva stood by, unsure of whether to act or watch. Then a huge grin broke out on both men's faces. "Welcome back to the real world, you big Cornish bastard!" Hathaway grabbed Lake in a manly embrace, which was immediately returned.

Tony turned a confused face to Ziva, as if to ask whether she knew what was happening. The former Israeli could only return the confused look with one of her own.

"Bloody hell, it's been a long-time since I've seen your ugly face around here!" Hathaway exclaimed as the two men separated. "That desk job keeping your hand prepped and ready for those cold nights alone in the near future?"

"Actually, Theresa's keeping my whole body stretched and warmed up for those long days at the office; something you haven't known for what? A year and a half?"

"Two years. I give you half of that before you two are in the divorce court and she's skinning you alive."

"Trying to make up for your own bad experiences, are we?"

"Is someone going to tell me me what the hell is going on?" Gibbs growled, cutting into the the dialogue. "Or am I going to have to start cracking skulls to get some answers?"

"Damn it all to hell, I forgot about our company." Lake indicated to the three Americans. "Lady and gentleman, this is Michael Hathaway, ex-security operative extraordinaire. He and I grew up together; he planned to join the foreign service the same time I did, but decided he preferred the dirty work in security at the last moment."

"Good thing I did." Hathaway replied. "Otherwise I'd have the same glorious personality that you do after sitting behind a desk all day."

"Touche. Michael, these three fine people are naval federal agents from the United States. This is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Ziva David."

"Yeah, they mentioned as much." Hathaway said, turning his attention to the trio in question. "So sorry for the rude greeting. You find yourself out of work abruptly, it tends to make you slightly more pissy than usual."

"Apart from the fact that 'pissy' describes your mood every day lately." Lake smirked. "But it's not my place to spoil the surprise. Agent Gibbs, I'll leave you and your two fine agents in the care of this obnoxious but good man. I trust he'll be able to answer any questions you might have. In the meantime, I'll be out in the van; can't be seen relaxing too much or I'll never progress up to double-oh status." He joked.

Tony opened his mouth, almost certainly to make a reference to James Bond, when Ziva clamped her hand over his mouth. "One movie reference from you," she murmured dangerously into his ear, "and I will demonstrate how I once killed a man in Switzerland and made it look like a heart attack."

Tony quickly raised his hands in surrender; Ziva released and then smirked at him, pleased that she could still keep him on his toes with a mere few words.

"So," Hathaway began, sitting back down as Lake departed, "how can I help some of America's finest?"

"Park Jun-Tae," Gibbs said without hesitation. "We have information that he's in London and that you can tell us what we want to know."

The former security operative stared at Gibbs for a few moments before speaking. "Sit down," Mills indicated to the lone chair across from him. Ziva continued to stand at attention, studying the exchange closely. Tony's eyes began to wander the room; he still hadn't fully woken up yet and had missed out on the chance to eat or drink anything before getting off the _NCIS_. This action did not go unobserved.

"Help yourself to coffee if you want," Hathaway said, indicating to the seemingly untouched pot in front of him. "It'll either wake you up fully or kill you. Depends on the waitress' mood. She seems to be civil for the time being so I'd take advantage of it while you can." Tony graciously grabbed a clean cup from a nearby trolley and filled it with coffee.

"Park Jun-Tae," Gibbs repeated.

Hathaway set his newspaper to the side and leaned forward in his chair. "Yeah, I know who Park Jun-Tae is. I might even have passed along some information to him last night, but I'm not the one who hired him. What do you want to know?"

"Why don't we start with where we can find him?"

Hathaway scoffed and leaned back. "I can tell you Agent Gibbs, but you won't stop him. When he first contacted me, I ran a check on his background; the man _never_ gives up on a job. And I doubt he will just because you ask him to."

"Why would he contact you?" Ziva asked.

"I was the head of security for Sheila Rutherford for the last three years. Then, two weeks ago, I discovered she was having quite a few people killed to cover up her own dirty secrets- which, if I can say bluntly, were numerous. She fired me when I confronted her about it." He shrugged. "Her loss; I might have been skilled enough to stop Park from taking her out."

"If you worked there, you must have an idea of what to expect security-wise." Gibbs said. "What the level of opposition he'd face would be."

"She's hired a private security company called New Dawn." Hathaway responded. "They're high tech killers; not much on rules and regulations, but _very_ well-equipped. They don't much care who they kill as long as they get paid well for it."

"Sounds like she's expecting a full-blown assault." Tony remarked quickly; the coffee was indeed starting to wake him up completely.

"Who knows what goes on in that devious mind of hers?" Hathaway shook his head. "What I _can_ tell you is that Park has one hell of a reception waiting for him. I told him all I knew." His brows furrowed. "Strangely enough, it didn't seem to worry him in the slightest."

"Who _is_ Sheila Rutherford?" Gibbs asked the question he'd been wanting to for the better part of an hour.

"A wealthy corporate executive with a very nasty disposition. She used to be a representative in the British embassy in Italy a few years ago. Now she's the CEO of her own company, Rutherford Industries; helped that she was the heiress of her father's fortune. She chews up and spits out her rivals the same way she does any men foolish enough to try and become friendly with her. And she's managed to do it by age twenty-nine while staying relatively good looking."

"Representing an embassy in your mid-twenties and then owning your own company a few years later?" Tony questioned. "Her father either pulled some strings or she must not be used to taking 'no' for an answer."

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both. Who knows?" Hathaway shrugged again. "But one thing you can't accuse her of is stupidity. She has even more power here in London. And she uses it to keep her friends in check and her enemies dead and buried. She's killed her business rivals, the occasional government official... there are even rumours she had her own sister killed. Not the model for family values if you ask me."

"So why has she not been arrested or at least questioned?" Ziva asked.

"The great, or perhaps the nasty thing about the corporate world is that laws can always be bent to serve your needs if your position is high enough." Hathaway explained. "In this day and age, some people are still above the law. Besides the fact that Sheila's on a first name basis with at least half the House of Commons, she's also been seen with certain members of the royal family. People tend to stop asking questions after you reach that level."

"But you do not approve of that?"

"Me? Hell no." Hathaway shook his hand dismissively. "She's even more of a cold-hearted bitch than my second wife, and that's saying something. I won't outright call for her murder, but I won't shed any tears over her death either."

"Is that why you gave that information to Park?"

"I figure if I'm going to end up saving any lives in the future that she finds expendable, I may as well take advantage of every opportunity I can get. Besides, this is no saint we're talking about here; this is a ruthless woman who cares very little about anyone other than herself. If anyone deserves killing, she does."

"Just tell us where we can find Park." Gibbs interjected.

"The Rutherford Towers of course. Penthouse level of Tower 1."

He indicated out the window beside the table and the three Americans followed his line of sight out into Cabot Square. Across the plaza were a series of tall towers and skyscrapers, all reaching up very high. However, they all seemed to pale in comparison to the one in the centre; a pair of giant silver towers that seemed to stretch up for at least a hundred stories. Small individual windows covered the entire structure except for the very top of the left most tower, where the entire top thirty feet or so was covered in one continuous sheet of glass all the way around, signifying the likely location of a penthouse suite suited for a corporate executive of Sheila Rutherford's stature; a massive red **R** was plastered on the front section of glass. One thing was sure; getting up to the top, either covertly or overtly, was _not_ going to be easy.

Hathaway seemed to sense their hesitation. He looked around to make sure that no one was paying attention to them before continuing on. "There... are some renovations going on in the second tower; a bridge is being constructed at the top to connect the two towers that's still in the process of being built. Because of that, there are at least a dozen alternate ways of going in between them. If Park is smart, and everything I've read says he is, he'll get in using one of them."

"Somehow I doubt Rutherford's just going to open her door and let us in, even if we're not the ones trying to kill her." Gibbs pointed out.

Hathaway shook his head. "She's as smart as she is paranoid. Nobody's going to get in or out of those towers without one hell of a fight. I can get you into the place, but you'll only have one shot. Better bloody well be ready before you go charging in there."

"You knew Park well enough to give information on a contract on him," Ziva said. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the man himself? Any possible dangers to us?"

"Not much that you don't already know," Hathaway replied. "Except for that fact that he's not doing this hit for money; no one hired him. I wanted to know the name of the person I was essentially helping to kill someone and he said he was doing this job entirely on his own; that it had something to do with... restoring some type of balance in his own life. It's very strange that he would do that considering his record, but I guess you'll have to ask him about that. As for dangers, well... you never can tell with assassins, can you?"

"Got that right," Tony piped up, then smiled innocently as Ziva shot him a glare.

Hathaway shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he's just crazy. Not that I care; if he takes out Sheila, I don't really much care why he does it. The best advice I can give you is to not shoot at him if you see him. Convincing him to talk to you after doing that wouldn't be easy; best not burn your bridges before you cross them."

"It's really that easy for you?" Gibbs leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "To give details to an assassin about his target and then just as readily give them up to three foreign federal agents? Got to be more to it than that, Hathaway."

"You're going looking for Park," Hathaway explained easily. "Sheila's security forces will try to stop you. At the very least, you'll distract them; take some fire, draw their attention away and give Park a clear shot. I didn't hire him to kill Sheila, but I sure as hell won't shed any tears when she gets what's coming to her."

"So we are there simply to act as fodder for her security's bullets?" Ziva demanded.

"Much as I hate to say it, I don't think we got much of a choice." Gibbs remarked. "It's the best plan we got right now." He nodded towards Hathaway. "Alright, let's get moving."

"Good," the Briton replied. "I hate all this talking crap. Park won't be making his move until much later; we'll go over tonight at around seven."

"Tonight?" Gibbs stared. "We don't have the luxury of time here, Hathaway!"

"You go over now and you'll come up empty and frustrated." Hathaway explained. "The towers are already filled with people and Sheila is always out on business during the day. Besides, Park is the type of assassin to minimize collateral damage; he'll wait until the vast majority of civilians are out of the building before he makes his move. The workers start to clear out of Tower Two at around seven; that's the absolute earliest he'd be there."

Gibbs sighed. "Fine. But in the meantime, we stake out the place and come up with a plan; last thing I need is to take on a private army without any idea of what to do. Let's get back to the van and come up with something. Right after we contact Brewer's team and let them know we're going to be more than five hours."

"Good idea," Hathaway stood up and started to walk for the door. "You three can join me right after you've paid the bill."

"Bill?"

"I may have ordered that coffee, but I didn't drink any of it. Damn good thing your agent needed a wake-up, Gibbs; I was beginning to think I would have to pay for something didn't use."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards Tony, who was left frozen with an empty coffee cup in one hand and a near empty pot in the other.

"_DiNozzo_..."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback/constructive criticism!**

**Here's some updated cast listings: **

**Sheila Rutherford- Emily Blunt**

**The Blood Devil Commander- Lucy Liu **

**Next chapter follows the other team in their hunt for not one, but two recruits!**


	34. From Russia to Britain with Mystery

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: London, England, United Kingdom- 0753 GMT**_

By the time that the second van arrived at the entrance to Stepney Gardens near Whitechapel, Timothy McGee was nearly throwing open the door right beside him in order to get out; the atmosphere within the vehicle was so tense, he thought that the slightest spark would blow up the entire van. He'd been sitting for the better part of fifty minutes next to the proverbial keg and right now all he wanted to do was escape before the spark was lit on top of it.

Much of the reason for the tension was the self-appointed leader of this team. Stephanie's attitude had not improved in the slightest since they had left Northolt; in fact, if anything, the ride to the Gardens had made it even worse. Though she had not said a word to him since her mysterious blow-up the previous night, McGee could literally _feel_ the cold, ruthless vibes emanating off the young CSIS officer, even though she was seated in front of him in the front passenger seat. The driver of the van, a young MI6 agent, had been on the receiving end of this treatment when he revealed that he had very little knowledge that could be useful to them when they arrived; she had shot the man a look that, had it been directed at him, McGee was sure would have made him piss his pants right there in his seat. Needless to say, the Briton gulped nervously and devoted his attention solely on getting to Stepney alive.

The other occupants in the van hadn't lightened the mood at all in the time they'd been travelling; Nigel, seated by the other window, had lapsed into silence and watched the sights pass them by without saying a word; Maria, who was seated in the rather uncomfortable position between the two men, alternated between sending predatory smirks at McGee and venomous stares towards Stephanie, which the Canadian ignored except for the odd cold glance in the rear-view mirror; Giguère kept his attention largely on the scene outside the window in the seat behind McGee, occasionally bursting into short bursts of dialogue, likely more intended for himself than the others and which were largely ignored by everyone else; Gage, sitting next to the Frenchman in the left most seat, was mostly silent except for the occasional low chuckle as he passed his eyes both over the sights outside and his fellow teammates in the van.

It was, to the say the least, an uncomfortable ride all the way to the East End, and McGee was extremely relieved when it finally came to an end.

As the group piled out of the van, which promptly left on Stephanie's orders as soon as everyone had departed, it was Nigel surprisingly who broke the silence. "Our intel says that Alexei Kharkov should be waiting for us here in the gardens. We should find him and then focus on tracking down Carolyn West."

"Hmm, complicated situation," Giguère murmured, scratching his chin. "The subject is unlikely to be waiting in plain sight given his occupation and reputation; risk of arrest or hostilities with local law enforcement is extremely high. We will most likely need to search for him."

"How are we going to do that?" Maria demanded. "Walk up to the first middle-aged guy we see and ask, 'hey, are you a vodka drinking, stone cold Russian killer with balls of steel'? Do you even have a plan for this, princess, or are you just trying to show everyone that your brain is at least half the size of your one of your boobs?"

Gage let out a very amused chuckle at that remark. McGee tried his best to ignore the situation and keep his eyes from automatically drifting towards Stephanie's chest to see if the Brazilian's implication was accurate; to do so would almost certainly mean a very excruciating death lest he be caught in the act.

Stephanie shot a very cold glare towards the BOPE officer before addressing the rest of the group. "Kharkov is scheduled to meet us near the entrance to the gardens at Stepney Way, which is where we are now, at this date and time. You should all have memorized his picture in the dossier; he should be easy to identify."

"Maybe, but I'm guessing he doesn't want to make it that easy," Gage pointed out. "If he did, he would be right here. Maybe he wants to screw with you."

"Screwing with CSIS, I have no problem with," Maria replied, scanning the area in front of her. "Wasting my time is another thing. It's a good way to cut your life short."

"That and everything else anyone does," McGee murmured under his breath.

"You say something to me, pretty boy?" Maria demanded bluntly. McGee was so startled at being overheard that he could do nothing but open and close his mouth several times, his brain desperately searching for an answer before the Brazilian decided to rip one out of him. Fortunately, at that moment, he was saved by Stephanie's voice.

"Quiet, all of you." The Canadian's eyes were fixated on a spot about fifteen yards away. "Follow me."

With the CSIS officer leading, the group made their way over off the path to the left towards an area directly under a maple tree. It was only then that most of them could see what had caught her eyes; standing underneath the tree were two men facing each other. The one that was facing away from them was short and broad, wearing a heavy dark coat despite the seasonal temperatures and had shortened chestnut-coloured hair with speckles of grey in it. The other man was young, pale and skinny wearing street clothes; he looked, to say the least, very nervous.

As the group approached them, the larger man suddenly reared back and slammed his fist into the other one's stomach; the young man gasped and dropped to his knees, trying to suck in air. McGee stared down at the man; Giguère raised an eyebrow; Stephanie, impassive as ever, merely shifted her look between the two men.

The younger man looked up and noticed the group for the first time, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please..." he gasped. "Help me."

The remark earned him a kick to the stomach by his companion. "No one told you to open your mouth, _mudak_." He said with a heavy Russian accent.

Stephanie ignored the younger man on the ground and instead focused her attention on the one standing, facing away from them. "Alexei Kharkov?"

The burly man turned around to face them, revealing a man in his mid-fifties with a greying, mid-length beard and a face that looked like it had experienced three straight months of winter in Siberia. His pale blue eyes stared back at the diverse group that stood before him. _"Da,_ I am he," he replied. "You must be that CSIS officer I heard about. A bit thicker and larger in some places than I imagined though."

Maria gave a very loud snort of amusement. Stephanie ignored her and kept her gaze focused strictly on the Russian. "I am Officer Stephanie Brewer, second-in-command of this team," she said coldly. "And I advise you to show some respect to a superior; otherwise, we may have some major problems."

"Whatever," Alexei shrugged. "I hear we have a world to save; don't really care about the whole 'chain-of-command' bit."

"I assume you've been briefed?"

"I've done my own homework. CSIS sent me everything I need to know, courtesy of the director."

"Intriguing," Giguère interjected. "Director Delcourt forwards relevant data to paid mercenaries, but not to other recruits. Very strange, that. Very strange."

"'Courtesy'?" Gage asked pointedly. "Sounds like you and this director who hides in the shadows have gotten all comfortable with each other."

"We have the easiest relationship in the world- the business one." The mercenary said, taking a few steps towards them. "CSIS is paying me a lot of money to help your team out on this mission. That's the long and short answer."

Maria scoffed. "Sure it is. _No one_ who agrees to go on a suicide mission does it just because someone waves a few dollars under their noses. Got to be more to it than that."

"Most people don't receive the kind of offer that CSIS gave to me," Alexei responded. "And even if they did, I am not 'most people'. This mission certainly doesn't sound like good business, but..." He shrugged again. "Director Delcourt can move dollars- American dollars. They are worth so much more than the rouble these days."

"Contrary to what you think, Maria," Stephanie turned towards the woman in question, "CSIS is not an organization built around all the evils of the world. We do good work- and a damn good job of it too."

"Keep telling that to yourself, _cadela._" The Brazilian shook her head. "Keep telling that to yourself."

It was at this point that the other man tried to take advantage of the Russian turning his back and tried to sneak away, only for his foot to come down on a downed branch with a _crack_; Kharkov quickly turned and kicked him none too gently in the chest, sending him back against the tree. "Just you be patient for a moment, my friend." He said in a not-so friendly tone.

Stephanie raised her eyebrows. "The director indicated that we were here to pick up one person, not two. Who is this?"

"Oh, him?" Alexei turned towards the downed man. "Delinquent and want-to-be petty thief. Pissed off someone rich, powerful and vengeful enough that they hired me to go after him. And for my 'bring them in alive' rate as well."

"Come on, mate, please..." The younger man pleaded. "I didn't do what he said I did! I just..."

Alexei delivered a vicious backhand to his face, snapping his head back. "I told you to be quiet." He turned back to Stephanie. "Led me on a chase all over England. He should have known better; his types always try to lose themselves in the big cities. Problem is that this is where he was running from in the first place."

"Is this going to cause a delay or a problem for us?" Stephanie asked.

"Hardly," the Russian scoffed. "The hard part of my job is done. Now all I have to do is turn him into those who want him for my bounty. I don't really care about what happens to him after that."

"Those that are foolish enough to launch an attack on an enemy out of their league and then cowardly enough to run away don't deserve pity." Gage interjected.

Alexei nodded in agreement. "Damn right about that."

Stephanie said, "When are you going to be able to present yourself for duty?"

"As soon as I deliver this package," the mercenary replied. "Should be done by the time you're ready to take off again. I thought you knew that already; didn't the director tell you about our arrangement?"

"Information was classified as on a need-to-know basis," Stephanie answered neutrally, though there was just the slightest hint of discontent in her face.

"Of course it is." Alexei crossed his arms. "The deal was that CSIS wouldn't take any action to interfere in my own personal affair as long as I waited until your business in London was done before joining you in any combat missions. Don't really know why but I'm getting paid either way, so I guess I can wait it out. He also said that once I did, I would be under the command of Leroy Jethro Gibbs- whoever the hell that is."

"Agent Gibbs is a US naval agent who is primary team leader," Stephanie responded. "He's on a separate mission here in London with two of his old agents. You'll meet him as soon as all our own separate business is complete."

"Good. The last thing I need is to be distracted while on a job. We can get everything out of the way and then focus on becoming big renowned heroes."

The younger man sitting under the tree nearby decided at this point to take a chance and escape while his minder was engaged. He stood up and started running away from them towards the interior of the park. In one swift motion, Alexei turned, drew a knife from his belt and calmly threw it in the direction of his fleeing captive, striking him in the right calf. He let out a cry of pain and collapsed instantly.

As the group stared at him, the Russian gave a mere shrug. "Unfortunately I cannot shoot him in the middle of a public park; too much attention."

He started walking towards the sprawled man, calling back behind him, "I'd better turn this _ublyudok_ in before he starts to stink even worse than he already does." Grabbing hold of the man by his collar and hauling him up, he moved towards the entrance to the park by which the team had entered, dragging his captive along with him. "I'll be fully ready the next time you decide to do some large-scale killing."

As the two men departed from the park, Maria remarked, "I think I like him; been around, balls of steel, does not take shit from anyone... and he can he read people accurately. Wouldn't you say so, _puta_?"

Stephanie gave Maria a look that would have blown apart most people's bodies and withered their souls. Seeing that things could very well turn ugly any second, McGee bravely interjected himself into the fray-in-the-making. "Look, I think we have more important things to do right now. We still have another person we need to find; staying here's not going to get us there any faster."

If looks could kill, McGee would have been dead ten times over courtesy of the two women. It was times like this that the MIT graduate wished more than anything that he had a fraction of the skill that Gibbs possessed; the former marine seemed to be able to keep the most degenerative members of society together in one unit without so much as breaking a sweat. At this rate, McGee felt he was going to _drown_ in his own sweat before the day was out.

His death via foreign women was thankfully delayed when Nigel spoke up suddenly. "Hold on a second. What's going on over there?"

Everyone looked to where he was indicating. About twenty yards away inside the park, walking in their direction, was a short portly man in his mid-forties wearing a brown suit. On either side of him were two tall men wearing dark suits, one white and one black. The man in the middle seemed to have an air of urgency about him; he was moving as quickly as his round figure could carry him.

As the men came in their direction, the team became aware of someone else coming up right behind them; a woman about the same age as the middle man with coffee-coloured skin and wearing a grey dress outfit. Walking quickly to catch up, she stopped just a few feet behind them, leaning forward slightly. "Where do you think you're going?" She asked sharply.

The man stopped and turned around, the two men at his side doing the same thing in perfect, almost scary synchronization. "I'm taking my business to Argentina, inspector."

"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Galsworthy. Not until I've solved this murder."

"I had nothing to do with that!" The man protested loudly. "It was those bloody street gang hooligans you can't seem to get rid of!"

The woman eyed the man evenly. "The victim was your own business partner and I'm _not_ ruling you out as a suspect. I'll _tell_ you when you're allowed to leave."

"But what about that Paladin that just showed up?" The man's tone was a very unsure one as he looked around nervously. "Everyone says she might go crazy and start killing. I need to leave before then!"

"Well, from what I've heard, she'll only kill those who deserve it. So I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, sir." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "You know where to find me if you need me."

She turned and started walking away, making her way in a diagonal fashion towards the right side of the team. As the group watched her leave, Giguère remarked, "Hmm, very intriguing. Possible lead towards finding the second recruit is at hand. I suggest taking a proactive approach."

"The businessman," Stephanie said aloud. "He knows that West is here. He might know where to find her."

She began walking towards the trio of men, the rest of the team close behind her.

The two tall bodyguards standing on either side of the businessman were the first to spot the group; unfortunately for them, it was only when they were less than ten feet away. The black guard brought his hand up to the inside of his jacket, only to be stopped by Gage grabbing hold firmly of his forearm with just enough strength to avoid snapping it. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, brother," the South African said in a surprisingly quiet tone with just a touch of a growl underneath it, staring him in the eyes.

Next to him, Giguère and Maria were quick to make sure that the other bodyguard didn't interfere; the Brazilian adding, "You make one wrong move and I'll break your kneecaps." The remorseless look on the Frenchman's face made any doubt on the seriousness of their intentions disappear.

The short, portly man, apparently humorously- and Tony would say stereotypically- named Galsworthy, stared around him in shock. "What the devil's going on here?"

"We ask the questions," Stephanie replied without a hint of warmth in her voice. "You'd do well to not make a move and answer them."

"Who are you people?"

"That's irrelevant. We're here for information; information we _know_ you have. I'd advise you to not waste our time."

"I don't want anymore trouble! If it's money you want-"

"We're not here to rob you, mate," Nigel said, his voice being the most calm and collected of the group outside of McGee's. "We just need you to give us some information."

"For what?" Galsworthy asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I have enough problems as it is right now! Hooligan thugs are trying to kill me just as they did my partner; who knows what they're planning at this very moment? On top of that, some strange woman warrior shows up this morning- a Paladin! You have any idea what that means around here? Everyone in the East End is frightened to death of her; I need to leave this city immediately."

"A Paladin?" Stephanie asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"As sure as I'm standing here in front of you! Name of Carolyn West. She's an old broad, but don't let that fool you; she'd gun you down in a heartbeat if she decided she had to."

"Has she actually done anything yet?" Stephanie questioned. "Every time the word 'Paladin' is mentioned, people seem to get nervous."

Galsworthy cast a look at his bodyguards, almost to reassure himself that they were still there, before replying. "Here in Britain, there are rumours about Paladins and their skills. They say how they're one hundred percent lethal in combat, and if they so much as suspect someone of being the slightest bit corrupt, they start shooting. The fact of the matter is that here, like practically everywhere else, corruption isn't very difficult to find." He had a rather guilty look about him. "Sometimes it's closer to home than you'd like to admit."

Stephanie looked at him coolly. "I don't care about whatever guilty thoughts are on your mind. Just tell me where we can find her."

The businessman pointed to his right. "She's a couple of blocks away near the Royal London Hospital. It's the spot where my business partner was murdered. A female detective inspector by the name of Seaton has sealed off the area as a crime scene, so if you want to go there, you're going to have to talk with her."

"And where would we find this detective?"

"Right on Diggon Street just over there." He pointed a little to the right of the direction the group had come. "I believe she's set up a temporary command centre to give orders to her officers at the crime scene. Not really sure why, but as long as she comes down on those murderous hooligans, I suppose she can keep her reasons to herself."

"Why are you so certain it was street thugs who killed your partner?" Nigel asked.

Galsworthy cast a look over the Australian, as though questioning why the answer was not obvious to him. "My partner, David Havering was his name, was taking a shortcut past the hospital last night when someone killed him with a handgun. I saw his body this morning; they'd shot him once in the back of the head. That the classic sign of the Whitechapel Gang; they're the largest street gang in this part of London."

"You must know something about this Whitechapel Gang if you can identify their MO," McGee pointed out, his investigative skills coming back to the front of his mind.

Galsworthy cleared his throat nervously and shuffled his feet. "I, uh- I may occasionally make a slight business transaction with them; these economic times are making it hard even for success travelling businessmen like myself. I sometimes offer them special goods in exchange for money, but only in well-lit areas- with my guards." He nodded to the two men standing on either side of him. "And only after I make sure that the payment has come through."

"So you are just one more corrupt bureaucrat willing to line your own pockets by dealing with known criminals who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves?" Maria demanded, the disgust evident in her voice. "You son of a bitch."

"I don't deal with them all the time, nor would I ever want to," Galsworthy argued. "This is a particularly scummy lot, even by gang standards. They've been involved in the selling of drugs and all kinds of nasty, illegal items. And they are all cold-blooded killers without remorse."

"The perfect people for target practice," Gage said in a satisfied tone.

"Why would these thugs kill him?" Stephanie asked. "And what makes you so sure that they're going to be coming after you next?"

"I have no idea! We're just innocent businessmen!" The portly man protested; Maria let out a snort of disbelief. "But they killed him, so they must be trying to kill me too. I don't know why, but I know I'm no longer safe here in London. I need to work the angles and get out of here."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem too broken up over your partner's death."

"David knew that there were certain risks when he took to travelling; he paid for it with his life." Galsworthy argued. "Right now, my main concern is myself. It's unhealthy to be a travelling businessman in the East End right now; especially one by the name of Reginald Galsworthy. There is so much potential to be had in the world these days; if I cannot take my business internationally, who will help those poor lost souls across the equator?"

Giguère scoffed loudly. "Typical British attitude," he said. "Isolated from the rest of Europe, following like sheep the Americans, and _still_ you think you control half the world."

"We have a lot more success than you over the Channel do, froggie," Galsworthy responded.

"That's enough," Stephanie ordered. "If we want to get into that crime scene, we need to talk with that detective right now." She turned back to Galsworthy. "You better have told us the truth, Galsworthy, because trust me- you don't want us coming back." As she turned and started walking away, Gage, Giguère and Maria released the two body guards; the Brazilian leaning in close to the businessman.

"By the way, Galsworthy," she murmured, "your bodyguards here suck. If I didn't have to play nice right now," she cocked her head, "you'd have a nice large shotgun round in your fat ass. "

Even as she turned around and started walking away, she could feel the shudder pass through the portly man's body. It brought a predatory smirk to her lips.

* * *

"What's up, McCrae?" Abby asked, coming back to the cockpit from a coffee run with a large black in one hand and a Caf-Pow in the other. She set the coffee down next to the Canadian and took her seat in the co-pilot's chair. "You look like you're trying to recall your exact flight pattern from Sarajevo! That whole in-depth, expressionless look suits Gibbs, but not you so much."

"Hmm?" McCrae was brought out of his train of thought and looked over at the the Goth. "Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"This whole mission. About how it's supposed to be practically impossible to survive. About how there is very little chance that once we set out for it, we'll be coming back alive."

"Is that any different from the rest of us?" Abby asked, taking a large sip from her drink. "We all know how low the odds are, especially considering the director knew about it all along." _The director._ Abby frowned; it was still strange for her to refer to anyone other than the head of NCIS as 'the director'. Old habits die hard.

"Yeah, but we're looking at it from the position of _right now_," McCrae argued. "Forget the fact that more than half this team would never be seen together under normal circumstances. Forget the fact that they'd most likely be killing each other had they not been forced to work together. And forget the fact that under normal circumstances, Gibbs would've told Delcourt to take his orders and shove them at the very first chance he got. We have next to no idea what we're really up against and almost no clue what's waiting for us. We're ill-prepared and ill-equipped. The way it stands now, our odds are almost zero."

"So what are you saying?"

"I was thinking to myself earlier that there had to be someway to improve our chances of survival. I may no longer be an active service member but I'm still a soldier, and I'll be damned if I sit by and do nothing to help out this team. After how much I screwed up in JTF2, it's the least I can do."

Abby narrowed her eyes. "Hey, I'm all for helping out, McCrae. Some of those people out there are my friends that may be going into hell, and I may not be an agent but I sure am not going to let them die without giving them any support that I can! But what can we possibly do? Our abilities here are kinda, you know... limited."

"Maybe not." McCrae looked at the controls in front of him. "Maybe the answer is right in front of us."

"Huh?"

"You were at the naval yard when the Blood Devils attacked it, right? You saw how much damage they're capable of?"

Abby subconsciously shivered at the memory. "I told you about it, didn't I? They may as well have been the forces of Satan himself! What good does remembering it do?"

"The Blood Devil jets' weapons destroyed the yard and its defences almost instantly last time; cut right through solid steel and brick like butter. And their armour is pretty much impervious to any conventional attack as Camp Jefferson proved. If we could find a way to enhance the _NCIS_' offensive and defensive capabilities, we might stand a chance if we find ourselves under fire from them."

"You mean..." Realization dawned on the face of the lab rat. "You mean we should try and make alterations to the _NCIS' _systems to try and make it stronger?"

"Exactly. This plane may be the best military craft that's ever come out of the Canadian Forces, but against a Blood Devil ship- I think Officer Brewer called them Battle Strikers in one of her memos- it may as well be a seaplane. Our weapons, if we're lucky, might put a dent in their side and our armour might buy us enough time to give them the finger before they burn us alive. We have to try something to make them stronger."

"But how? I took a look at the operating systems while we were parked in Langley. Their encryption is mega-advanced, especially for a plane! They weren't meant to be altered in any way. Besides, how would we even be _able_ to upgrade them?"

"If these systems could be manually re-worked, it would divert a lot more power to the areas we want them to. It might take away from the plane's overall speed and manoeuvrability, but with the two of us at the helm, we'd be able to compensate for that. Of course, to divert the ship's power, we'd need someone who's an expert at hacking."

His voice trailed off as he stared at Abby, who stared back for a moment before cluing in, her eyes wide. "_Me_? Oh, well, I, uh..." She fumbled for words. "I'm not really an expert in this kind of thing, McCrae. I'm more a science type of person. This type of job would be better suited to McGee..."

"Bullshit," the Canadian interrupted. "I saw the way you handled hacking into the base's defence systems at Camp Jefferson. I've never seen anyone do something that complicated so quickly. And we need to get working on this as soon as possible. You think you're up to it?"

"Well..." Abby hesitated for a moment, apparently trying to decide quickly in her head whether she was capable of such an achievement. True, she had done her fair share of technical work in NCIS, but never had it been anything as complex or important as this. Their own lives depended on this, not to mention the countless lives that would be lost if they failed.

"Which areas would be most important?" She asked finally.

A faint look of approval appeared on McCrae's face before getting down to business. "Our weapons would need to be upgraded to a level that can penetrate a Battle Striker's defences. That's going to require diverting a hell of lot of power to one single area. I'm not sure about the specifics of that but if we get it high enough, we should be able to blow them right out of the sky."

Abby looked thoughtful as this was all being said. "Hmm. That might be possible if we could allocate enough from different sources to avoid weakening one area too much, but without a little practical work we won't know for sure. What else?"

"Our defences need to be upgraded so that we can survive a full-on-fight with the Blood Devils in the air if it comes to that. They're more than likely to cut through them right now without any trouble. I think I might be able to do a little tweaking to the strength of the armour so it won't get burned through as easily but that's not going to be easy. Agent Warner may know a little bit about this stuff as well; once he gets back, I'm hoping the two of us can come up with something definitive."

"You're a pilot, but don't know how to keep your aircraft safe?" Abby questioned.

"Flying a plane and upgrading it are two totally different things, even in this day and age. I may be a damn good pilot but I tend to leave the engineering stuff to the engineers. Unfortunately we can't really ask them about it right now since technically this plane isn't supposed to be in service yet. And besides, as much as we can tweak the armour, I doubt it's going to be enough to survive a blast that destroyed the naval yard. We're still at a disadvantage, which means that any tweaking won't do us much good on its own."

A pensive look came over the lab rat's face. "But what if we could find a way to protect the armour by adding a second layer of protection?" Abby asked, more to herself than to him.

McCrae looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"There may be a way to form a protective casing around the perimeter of the ship itself. To do that, we'd have to divert a significant amount of power away from key areas of the _NCIS_ and circulate around the outside. I may be able to hack into the main system and alter the..." Here Abby's speech became highly technical, and soon enough McCrae was lost and confused.

"So what you're saying," he finally cut in, "is that we could use the ship's own fuel and energy to form a barrier around it?"

"Yes!" Abby looked very excited as she bobbed her head up and down in agreement. "What we'd have in the end would be similar to a repellant force-field- a _shield_ if you will. If we managed to get it running, I'm betting that maybe, just _maybe_, we'd be able to survive if those bastards ever managed to score a direct shot! Uh, not that I'm eager to test that out or anything!" She added quickly.

"How soon can you get to work on it?"

"Hard to tell. It definitely won't be finsihed for a little while- these things take time- _but_, if we get started now we'll likely to prepared for when we really need it. I can't give specifics right now."

"Then let's get to work. I'll start looking at the options for improving the armour and main weapons. You get to work on that shield idea. Let's show everyone what we're capable of- including those terrorist Blood Devil sons of bitches."

Abby gave a wide grin followed by a salute. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

_Canadian Security Intelligence Service headquarters- Ottawa, Ontario, Canada_

"Dr. Ono, come in."

The Asian man in his late thirties entered the room and stood in front of the desk, his arms folded behind his back. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Indeed," Director Delcourt stretched out his legs under the desk. "It has come to my attention that a certain... _matter_ has come to the forefront of our attention. Something that is absolutely vital that we cannot ignore."

"What would that be, sir?"

Delcourt poured himself a glass of water before sitting back. "Are you familiar with Hawaii, doctor?"

"I can't say that I am, sir. Some of my family has vacationed there a few times, but I have not had the time to do the same."

"A beautiful state- one of the best parts of the United States. And also one of the best places in the world if you have fondness for volcanoes. As a matter of fact, the largest volcano in the world is found there- Mauna Loa, it's called. It's right in the middle of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park- a great tourist attraction, by the way. That's beside the point. It's come to my attention that there is something there that is crucial to our goals; something that requires our immediate attention."

"What is that, sir?"

"We intercepted a message from the park's authorities; reports indicate that there appear to be strange readings coming from the summit crater of Mauna Loa. Normally this wouldn't interest us; however, they also report that there seem to be some type of transmissions coming from this very spot. The content of these transmissions is of great interest to us."

"How so, sir?"

"We compared the code structure of these transmissions to recently acquired transmissions sent to an enemy aircraft just yesterday. Another team is occupied dealing with that situation, but I find it far too much of a coincidence that transmissions from identical sources were projected merely a day apart. If my suspicions are right, this could be a major opportunity for us."

"I'll take your word on that, sir," Dr. Ono replied, coming to attention in the same manner of a US marine. He had learned quite a while ago it was better to not ask the director to elaborate further if he hadn't already; everything was strictly on a 'need-to-know' basis. "What would you like me to do?"

"I'm dispatching you along with a small team consisting of scientists and former military operatives to the area in question." Delcourt swirled the water in his glass. "If this is what I believe, then we have to act quickly. Find out everything you can about what you discover there. I'll decide whether or not something is relevant."

"Yes, sir,"

Delcourt drained his glass. "You're dismissed."

Ono gave a short bow and prepared to walk out of the room.

"And doctor?"

Ono paused and looked back. "Yes, sir?"

"I expect that this operation will be carried out discreetly. It wouldn't be to our advantage if US authorities were to discover members of Canada's spy agency operating on their soil without their knowledge."

"That won't be a problem, sir."

"Ensure that it's not."

Ono gave another short bow and walked out of the room. In his chair, Director Delcourt leaned back and gave an approving nod.

"We'll have it now."

* * *

Detective Inspector Anna Seaton, it would seem, was a woman who was used to directing her officers in a quick and efficient manner. As the group approached the dark-skinned detective who had set up shop on the small street next to a mobile black van, the urgency of the officers running everywhere making various preparations gave them the impression that they would get less of the run-around from her than they had gotten from Reginald Galsworthy.

DI Seaton had just given curt instructions to an eager young officer who went hurrying up the street when she finally turned and noticed the unique group that had walked up to her. Strangely enough, she gave no indication of surprise other than a slightly raised eyebrow as she turned towards them, as though the sight of a group of such diverse individuals, some dressed up like they were ready for military combat, were a common occurrence in the East End of London.

"Nice guns," she remarked dryly as the team stopped in front of her. At first it was difficult to determine whether she was referring to the barely concealed weapons all of the team members were carrying with them or to the particularly large size of Gage's arms; even concealed under his combat uniform, this particular feature of the South African's was very difficult not to notice. The question left them pondering a moment until she added, "Try not to use them in my district. Detective Inspector Anna Seaton, Metropolitan Police. What can I do for you?"

"Federal agents," Stephanie once again took the lead; McGee held out his own badge for verification. "I heard you could help us. We're looking for a British non-governmental warrior- a Paladin by the name of Carolyn West."

"If you've got a score to settle with Carolyn West, take it somewhere else," Seaton responded seriously. "I have more than my own fair share of problems to deal with here as it is."

"We have very important business to take care of," Stephanie replied. "Taking care of it means first finding West. And we're going to do that, with or without your help. It's your choice."

"Has to be important if you're pulling that on a Metro police detective." Seaton cocked her head in an almost pensive way. "I've heard Paladins usually work alone- but... they _are _drawn to impossible causes."

"The complexity of the mission has already been attended to," Giguère interjected.

Seaton shrugged. "Fair enough. I know you're not likely going to tell me anything more- the whole issue of government secrecy and all. If you can get her out of my district, it doesn't really matter; I'll get you to her as soon as possible. She's at a crime scene just beside the Royal London Hospital."

"You're letting her into a sealed crime scene?" McGee asked in a surprised tone.

"I'm just a copper serving the great city of London," the detective replied. "Some things are just bigger than you are whether you want to admit it or not; this is one of them. I'll work with a Paladin all I can. Besides, she's likely seen more violence in her years as a Paladin than all our lives put together. If anyone knows how to handle herself, she does."

"You seem very anxious to get West out of your district," Stephanie observed, watching the DI closely.

Seaton pursed her lips. "My superiors want me to detain her. They're worried she'll cause some kind of major disturbance- as if this part of the city hasn't any. But the fact is that Paladins have pledged to never allow themselves to be taken into custody; if I try to do so, she'll have to kill me. This job may have plenty of pissy days, but I have no interest in dying for my superiors' worries." She shrugged. "So if you can lure her away on some big noble cause before they get their knickers in a twist, I'll be glad to help."

"They're asking you to go into certain death?" Maria asked. "That sounds like Grade A bullshit to me. You should tell them to take those orders and shove them."

"We can disobey suicidal orders?" Nigel sounded surprised at hearing this. "Why wasn't I told? Let's remember it the next time Gibbs decides to set us up to get our arses blown off."

"That would be at least twice a day," McGee informed the Australian. "Three if he missed his coffee that morning."

"Guess today would be one of those days then," Gage remarked, speaking for the first time in a while.

"This mission is more important than _all_ of our lives," Stephanie retorted sharply, cutting into the exchange. "We're not throwing ourselves into hell just because someone else says so."

"And the bullshit keeps spewing," Maria remarked.

"Look, I'm a copper and I know my duty," Seaton interrupted. "I've been ordered to detain her and I will." She cast an eye over the group. "Unless of course she finds a reason to leave before I have to do that. Otherwise, I'll be dead before I ever have to complain about the coffee back at the station ever again."

"Would West really kill a cop?" McGee asked. "That doesn't sound like much a protector to me."

"She would die defending an honest cop, but at the same time would fight an entire army of corrupt cops to the death." Seaton shook her head. "Look, I admire her dedication and all, but her very presence is creating a major problem. I need her to leave before I'm forced to bring her in."

"If you want West gone, you need to let us talk to her." Stephanie drew herself up. "That means we need to get to that crime scene you mentioned."

"I'll have one of my officers drive you over there," Seaton replied. "It's right by the Royal Hospital. The officers there are under orders not admit anyone, so I'll call ahead and tell them to let you in. Watch yourself when you get there," she warned. "The local Whitechapel gang have run all over the alleys and side streets lately; they're not going to give you a warm welcome."

"What exactly is this crime scene you've got there?" McGee asked, wanting to satisfy his curiosity.

Seaton pursed her lips again as she turned to face down the street towards the city. "A travelling business man was murdered last night," she explained. "By the looks of it, it seemed to be a professional hit; nothing of his appears to be missing, so that means we can rule out drug addicts looking for a score or a few pounds." She turned back to the team. "My guess would be the Whitechapel gang; they've been acting much more like a mercenary squad than a street gang as of late. I can't prove it, but if the salesman was dirty as well, it's possible this a deal gone wrong."

"What exactly is this gang? And what makes them stand out so much?" Stephanie asked.

"The Whitechapel gang is just about the largest you're going to get in London," Seaton responded. "They're semi-professional killers with a mean streak a mile wide. They sell hard drugs, import weapons into the city and occasionally provide assistance to other criminals trying to get out of the UK. They largely control a few of the rougher parts of the East End. I'm trying to find their base of operations; haven't been successful yet but I'll keep trying."

"Give me a hour and I will take care of your gang problem permanently," Maria said with confidence.

Seaton regarded her closely. "Carolyn West has already been there for a couple of hours. If anyone's going to clean them out, it's her. People aren't afraid of Paladins for nothing."

"You seem to know something about Paladins," Stephanie remarked. "What can you tell us about them?"

"They're a kind of..." Seaton paused for a second. "I suppose the most accurate term would be 'warrior monks'. Information on them is sparse, but what _is_ known is that they live by a very complex pledge; this pledge compels them to protect the good and punish the wicked."

"That is all?" Giguère questioned. "Hardly a plausible or entirely accurate analysis."

"I doubt anyone but a Paladin itself would be able to give you specifics. I can tell you that they've been a virtually unknown yet indispensable part of British policy for a very long time. I grew up reading stories based on their exploits when I was a little girl."

"So you must have an opinion of Carolyn West herself." Nigel pointed out.

"She's been a Paladin for longer than most of you have been alive," Seaton remarked. "Anything before that is shrouded in mystery."

"Why?"

"Paladins don't become who they are because it's been a family job for generations. It's more like an escape than an opportunity- an escape from everything they've ever known. Whoever she was before she took that pledge, that person is dead."

"Speaking of death," Stephanie said, "a lot of people seem nervous of her presence. Scared, even. Is there a particular reason for that?"

"Britons have come to admire Paladins for their strength," Seaton replied. "But it's also made very clear to us that they kill without an ounce of mercy if they detect so much as a fraction of corruption. In today's world, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who's _not_ tainted by something. And from what I've heard, her return to England was very abrupt and unexpected; Paladins rarely come back unless they really need to. Why is she here?" The DI shrugged. "I doubt it's to investigate the murder of some corrupt businessman."

"We'll know soon enough," Stephanie said firmly. "Tell your officer to take us to the crime scene now."

Seaton gave a curt nod. "Of course. Good luck out there." She turned and began walking towards the van.

Stephanie turned towards the group. "Prepare yourselves. We're moving out."

As she strolled off down the street, Gage said, "Sounds like we're finally going to get some action."

"About fucking time," Maria cracked her neck. "I was just starting to fall back asleep."

"I don't know about the rest of you," Nigel said, "but I've got a feeling this is not going to be as simple as walking into a crime scene."

"Logical," Giguère remarked. "The initial hypothesis is rarely the correct one. Far more likely that we will encounter armed resistance. Most likely from gangs. Also possibly from local law enforcement. Suggestions? Agent McGee?"

McGee looked towards the city, where the vast majority of Londoners were just starting to begin their daily routine, just like them. The main difference was that for the team, routine meant getting shot at and trying to take down dangerous individuals.

"Whatever we end up facing," he murmured, "is not going to be easy. If I was to say anything it'd be that we'd better find West before that detective goes after her."

_Otherwise_, the junior field agent thought, _things could get very messy_.

**A/N: Please review and give me feedback/constructive criticism!**

**Beginning with the next update, I'm going to switch this story over an 'M' rating as I think it'll need it.**

**Please thanks my new best tool- Google Maps- for ensuring accuracy related to places in the last few chapters! Google Translation also comes in handy for foreign words. If anyone spots any mistakes let me know.**

**The Whitechapel gang is my own creation (as far as I'm aware).**

**I've finally found a suitable song for the story (yes, the other ones mentioned in the first chapter count as well, but they have no dialogue). The theme song for this fic is 'Hero' by Chad Kroeger. Look it up on YouTube if you don't know it.**

**Vote for your favourite new team member; they're updated as they're introduced!**

**And, once again, reviews are appreciated!**


	35. Through the Eyes of the Hunter

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: East End of ****London, England, United Kingdom- 0836 GMT**_

"Fucking hell- I'm glad to be away from _her_!"

"Tell me about it. That whole time in the warehouse, I kept getting this strange vibe off of her. Like she was trying to absorb all the evil in the room!"

"Don't think she needed to? You get a glimpse into her eyes? Don't think there was anything human in there! Why the hell did we agree to help that... that _monster_ in the first place?"

Crouched in the shadows of the hallway's corridor, Carolyn West turned her head to the side and listened closely. The three armed Whitechapel gang members spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, speaking about someone they had obviously left not too long ago; someone who evidently inspired fear in the hearts of these supposedly hardened criminals. A fear so great that they would not even dare to speak her name.

For the Paladin, it was the first definitive lead she had picked up since returning to England.

The first confirmation that she was on the right track of her quarry.

_It would seem that perhaps my faith still has some meaning to God._

After arriving in London in the very early hours of the morning, she had immediately investigated the crime scene near the Royal Hospital where a travelling salesman had been murdered, an investigation which she had finished not even an hour ago. Having accomplished this, she had paid a visit to an old underground contact to retrieve her typical weapons- a 9mm pistol and a British-made SA80 assault rifle. Her years of doing what she did had netted her many contacts across the globe over the years, those she allowed to operate on condition they never provide any help to those who would harm the innocent; to do so, she made it clear, would be considered an inexcusable offence and subjected to her full retribution.

Which is why her weapons were suited not for stealth, but for effectiveness. It was no longer necessary to act covertly; she had pledged to deliver justice onto the one she pursued. There was little doubt in her mind that her target would have spread the word about her impending arrival in an attempt to put distance between herself and the Paladin; continuing to pursue a line of secrecy would be pointless. Having retrieved her weapons, she had spent close to an hour tracking down the Whitechapel gang she believed were tied to her quarry. Surprisingly, despite their rather amateurish organization, they were for quite a while able to evade her search.

That was, until this very moment.

Having searched the nearby back alleys, she had discovered one of their main storage buildings where they housed a significant amount of contraband that they both imported and exported. Stashes of illegal substances and hard drugs as well as large containers carrying some type of highly potent narcotic, the name and details of which she was unfamiliar. Her investigation in this area extended not only to the person she sought, but to the murderer of the salesman as well; the only clue she had found in regards to this were the carelessly exposed records lying around, which indicated that both the victim and his partner Reginald Galsworthy had been paid handsomely by the Whitechapel fiends, but for what was unknown.

_A visit to this salesman will be necessary_.

However, it would seem that gang's activities were not limited to merely contraband, but also the reprehensible crime of human trafficking. Their knowledge of the seedier and less well-travelled paths of London would be used by her quarry; she would ensure to entrench herself deep within their society and conduct her business. This fact, coupled with what Carolyn had just heard from the gang members, indicated that her target was relatively close- closer than she had been in years.

For her, the course of action to take was simple; this gang may have played a role in the murder of David Havering, but they also had allowed her quarry to conceal herself and carry on with her atrocious crimes.

_She gave them warning of exactly who was pursuing her. No wonder they went to such great lengths to keep a low profile._

However, this was irrelevant; if need be, she would interrogate every single of them in order to find the exact hiding spot of the trafficker. Any actions the gang sought to take against her would undoubtedly reveal Havering's killer as well. Based upon the evidence she had recently uncovered, there wouldn't be a shadow of doubt as to the involvement of illicit activities by the Whitechapel group. Following the pledge she had taken, they would all be brought to justice.

Starting with these three.

She took a step forward, into the light. Her hands remained empty, her weapons secured out of sight in the depths of her long stiff coat. She would require little use of them.

For the time being anyway.

The three gang members wheeled in surprise at her sudden appearance. "What the..? What are you..." One of them murmured in shock.

"It's the Paladin! Kill her!"

Taking a few running steps, Carolyn jumped up into the air and flung her arms out diagonally to the side; her back of her coat flung out and stiffened, acting almost in the form of a glider and causing her to move across the hallway at an accelerated speed. This, coupled with her surprising agility made the volley of pistol bullets shot at her virtually harmless. Still, they persisted, firing from whatever protection they could find in the small narrow hallway. She sailed forward and as her feet touched the ground she swept her stretched-out coat tails forward, creating an unexpected powerful gust of air sweeping forward; a hailstorm of debris rained down on the attackers.

There were shouts of surprise as the unexpected attack turned the hallway into a whirlwind. Small crates, hand-held objects and even an empty metal trolley washed over them, trapping them in their places of concealment from all sides.

However, this atmosphere of anarchy did not bother Carolyn; rather than intimidate her, she revelled in it and the cover for battle it provided her. Taking advantage as the last of the debris rained down on the gang members, she began to launch her counterattack. Reaching the first of them, she slammed her fist into his ribcage; as he doubled over in pain, she brought her knee up violently into his jaw. The man stumbled backwards, disoriented, and Carolyn drew herself up before ramming her knuckles into the spot just below his Adam's apple, brutally crushing his larynx.

Whirling in a complete circle in place, she avoided the shot fired at her by the second gang member. Without missing a beat, she kicked an open toolbox resting on the ground towards him; the man raised his hands and tried to defend himself as a hailstorm of tools assaulted him, but a screwdriver sailed low and pierced his right thigh. As he cried out in pain, Carolyn gave a brutal kick to the knee, snapping the joint, then grabbed the man's head in both hands and gave it a violent twist; the sickening _CRACK_ indicated that he would not be getting up again.

The final gang member, who picked himself up off the floor as the hailstorm of debris stopped, backed up quickly as the Paladin advanced on him. In a desperate attempt to combat her, he drew a switchblade from his pocket and hurled it at her face.

Carolyn countered the attack by catching the blade between both of her hands. Pushing them upward, she flipped the weapon in mid-air, caught it with one hand and hurled it back- all within less than three seconds. Caught off guard, the gang member ducked and was just barely able to avoid the incoming projectile.

Straightening up, he tried to bring his pistol up towards her, but was too slow; Carolyn launched a powerful kick to the inside of his wrist, causing him to involuntarily let go of the weapon and sending it flying away. Closing the distance between the swiftly, she grabbed hold of his collars, whirled around and, with surprising strength, threw him down the corridor. The door at the far end of the hallway yielded under the force and the gang member skidded across the floor a few feet into the building's large storage room; containers upon containers of varying sizes were stacked everywhere, surrounding him. Turning towards the doorway, he saw the older woman walking toward him with deliberate strides.

"Where is she?" The Paladin asked in a cool calm voice, her eyes locked on the man for any further signs of aggression.

"Sh- She...?" The man stammered, trying frantically to backpedal and finding himself trapped. "I... I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Do not lie to me," Carolyn's voice never raising above a low tone. "Tell me where she is and I will spare your life."

"Please..." The man pleaded. "You have any idea what she'll _do_ to me if I tell?"

"I do." The Paladin nodded affirmatively. "Your options are very limited. This is your final chance- where is she?"

"I don't know, I'm just a low level man." The man's eyes filled with fear when her fist began to clench. "_But_... one of her lieutenants might! They know a lot about where she operates and how she works. I bet they could tell you!"

"Where do I find them?"

"They have meetings in the back alleys around here. That's where you'll find them," He replied quickly. "Look, I gave you want you want! Are you gonna let me go?"

"As is required by the pledge." Carolyn replied smoothly, stepping to the side. "Leave this place and do not ever take up anything like this again."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" The man quickly got up and hurried past her out the door. Carolyn watched his retreating back, her expression still emotionless.

Then, just as he was about to exit out the front door, he suddenly wheeled and drew another pistol from his coat.

Carolyn had already leaped gracefully to the side, having scouted this move. The bullet missed her completely and lodged itself in the the wall behind her; in that time, she brought her foot down on a loose wooden plank on top of which rested a medium sized container. As it flew up in the air, she touched the bottom lightly with her fingertips, allowing it to hang for a second in mid-air, before throwing it with pinpoint accuracy at the gang member.

The container hit him directly in the chest, shattering on impact and releasing a thick white powdery gas substance around him. The man's screams only lasted a few seconds, replaced soon by gagging and choking as the toxin entered his mouth and nose and travelled quickly into his bloodstream. His movements became disjointed as he struggled to even stagger a few feet; a horrible gasping sound indicated his desperate and futile attempt to draw air into his lungs, each becoming shorter and weaker than the last. He threw his head up and stared straight ahead, his eyes wide yet empty, before collapsing onto the ground.

Carolyn observed the man's body as it took one last agonized breath. "May God forgive you for your crimes in the afterlife," she said in a low neutral tone.

Her business in the building concluded, she moved quickly towards the side door to continue her search for her quarry.

**A/N: I know this chapter is much shorter than the previous few, but I wanted to dedicate it solely to Carolyn since I've never given you a preview of any of the recruits before the team meets them. I may do the same thing with Park when I come to it depending on how well this chapter is received. The next chapter will be longer and very interesting, I promise!**

**Please review! I love hearing your detailed ones, Radafa; my only wish is that more people did the same!**


	36. The Paladin's Mission

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: Royal London Hospital, East End of ****London, England, United Kingdom- 0845 GMT**_

"Has it ever occurred to anyone that Director Delcourt might be just a little bit... off?" Nigel asked suddenly.

Maria snorted. "And you're just figuring this out now?"

"I'm talking about who he decides to make his elite squad out of," the Australian responded. "From what I've seen, CSIS is a lot like ASIS; a lot of behind-the-scenes work but not much experience up front. Now to compensate for that we've got people like you and Gage and Kharkov and that..." He paused for a moment, his mouth drawn thin, "_assassin_ Gibbs and the others are after. That's a hell of a lot of baggage between us all. So how come we're recruiting someone like..." He left this sentence unfinished, but everyone knew who he was referring to.

"Like you?" The Brazilian responded pointedly.

Nigel stared at her pointedly. "You know bloody well what I mean."

The team had just disembarked from the vans that had transported them to the hospital and they now stood off to the side trying to come up with a strategy for the task that lay before them. The Royal Hospital itself was an impressive, quite welcoming structure but the area it had been built in was anything but; dark, dreary alleyways and buildings surrounded them in stark contrast to the representation of cleanliness and hospitality that the hospital was. Even the police presence stationed near the entrance to the maze of alleys didn't do much to brighten the scene.

McGee seemed to catch on to Nigel's line of thinking. "Is there any chance that West's beliefs will be a problem for us? You know, the whole 'kill everyone she deems impure' deal?" Privately, the junior field agent was more than just a little bit concerned; if Carolyn's beliefs were truly as strict as that, it could pose a serious problem with some of the team's more 'controversial' members- most notably Maria, who he sensed had committed more than just a few misdeeds in her life. That was counting out the likely activities of the rest of the team; even he could not say he had lived a flawless life, and for the first time since setting out was- just a _little_ bit- grateful that Gibbs, Tony and Ziva were not present.

"From what we understand, as long as she makes a pledge to follow our team, then no. Otherwise, we might just have to let her go."

"But?" McGee prompted.

"A Paladin's not just gonna swear a pledge to anyone. It has to be someone unique- someone who doesn't answer to anyone else and is a true leader. The only person on this team who fits that is Gibbs himself."

"Brilliant," Stephanie murmured as she turned to the others; she had just terminated a communication with Gibbs in her earpiece. "Apparently our Korean assassin is following a schedule based on morality; he's waiting until the chance of civilian casualties is least likely. Gibbs and his team won't be able to even start making their moves until seven tonight, so we're going to have to improvise."

"How exactly are we going to do that?" McGee asked.

"By buying time until he's finished with his own job and ready to meet with the Paladin. As much as I hate to say it, we're just going to go with the flow and make this up as we go along."

"She's not gonna just wait around 'cause we ask her to," Nigel warned.

Stephanie fixed him with a look. "That's the whole 'as we go along' part. The hope is that she'll consider our mission important enough to wait up for."

"We have to get to her first," McGee pointed out.

"Which is why the sooner we leave, the better. Any questions?"

"Has your ass always been that huge?" Maria asked bluntly; Gage gave an amused chuckle.

Stephanie tacitly ignored both of them. "Any _serious_ questions?"

"That _was_ a serious question, princess."

"Level of threat?" Giguère interjected.

"Unknown numbers of the Whitechapel gang. If the Paladin's in there, it's possible she's reduced their numbers, but it's impossible to tell for certain right now. Assume hostiles are everywhere; be on your guard. Anything else?" She looked around expectantly; the interruption came, not from any of the squad members, but from Abby in their earpieces. "NCIS _to CSIS team, can you read me?_"

Stephanie put her hand to her ear. "This is CSIS team. What's going on, _NCIS_?"

"_Um, did you guys by any chance see a big scary dude with a beard and a Russian accent by any chance?_"

"If you're talking about Alexei Kharkov, then yes, we've met him. He's taking care of some personal business right now and joining up with us after we've finished here. Why?"

"'_Cause someone like that came aboard like ten minutes ago, said he just met with a group of really strange... he used some Russian word I didn't recognize- and went down to one of the storage areas below deck. I got him on the surveillance footage; he looked like he's set himself up in there._"

"He finished up his job pretty quickly," Nigel remarked. "I'd hate to be the poor bastard he was taking care of, if what he told us was anything to go by."

"_Yeah, well see, here's the thing- he just came up from his quarters a couple of minutes ago carrying a VERY mean looking pair of guns and headed out!_"

"What? He _left_?" Stephanie demanded. "Did he say anything?"

"_Just that he had some 'killing to do'. I tried to ask him what he meant, but he was out of the plane before I could finish my question. Personally, I don't know what he was talking about but I'm hoping he just didn't do, like, a huge double-cross on us!_"

"He wouldn't do that- not with the money CSIS paid him," Stephanie replied.

"_Well then, we're gonna have some major slaughter happening in London today, because I'm telling you that guy's packing enough firepower to storm the Palace of Westminster!_"

McGee looked over in alarm. "He wouldn't actually do that, would he?"

"He's a _mercenary_," Nigel responded with obvious distaste. "He's not gonna just run away while he still has his cash to collect."

"_Well, then what's he gonna do? This isn't the Wild West! He's got to have something specific in mind!_"

"Possibly he decided to disregard orders and join up with us early," Giguère suggested. "Was not content to sit back for an unspecified length of time while relying on someone else."

"A warrior who thinks for himself," Gage said approvingly. "I like it."

"Someone who does whatever CSIS tells him not to do? He's alright in my book," Maria added.

"Lovely," Stephanie murmured. She put a finger to her ear. "Alright Sciuto, if you hear anything else, let us know. Right now we've got our own job to do and we can't waste time. Try to avoid communications unless it's absolutely necessary. CSIS team out." She cut off before Abby had a chance to respond.

"So what's the plan?" McGee asked.

"Same as it always has been: find Carolyn West and convince her to come along with us." Stephanie motioned towards. "Make sure your weapons are ready to go when you need them."

The team approached the entrance to the nearest alley, where two young officers stood at attention on either side of it; one of them nodded to the group. "Heard you're going in; DI Seaton rang ahead to let us know you were coming. Watch yourself," he warned. "The Whitechapel gang have the run all over these alleys; we're still waiting on backup."

"Backup?" Nigel repeated.

"We're normally not supposed to come into this section without a special response team; the dangers are too great." The other one responded; he passed an eye over the heavily-armed, multinational team before him. "But I'm guessing you don't need any escort; you look like you could be _our_ escort!"

"You'll have your turn to go in here- after we've taken care of some business," the Australian responded. "Just make sure you don't get in our way."

The first officer nodded. "Not to worry. We're not going anywhere until the tactical team shows up. Just be careful in there."

"Noted," Stephanie turned back to the team. "West is our primary objective; avoid engagement if possible. We need to find her as quickly as we can. Move out."

* * *

"So tell me about JTF2, McCrae," Abby said unexpectedly, breaking the very long silence that had filled the cockpit.

"Hmm?" The Canadian tore his eyes away from the console in front of him, a surprised expression on his face. "JTF2? Why?"

"'Cause the silence is driving me insane and the work in front of me is melting my brain."

"I find that hard to believe considering how many Caf-Pows you've, uh... _inhaled_ since the day began."

"You're avoiding the question," Abby pointed out. "I don't know about you, but I can't work in silence, and the last time I checked, there aren't any death metal CDs around here."

"CDs? You mean they still exist?" McCrae put on a look of mock shock. "Damn, I thought those things were practically relics nowadays."

"Oh, thanks for making a girl feel old, McCrae!" Abby retorted, although she was grinning. "Just for you, I should go and find a record player to make you feel young again!"

"Low blow, Abby, low blow. If you want to nitpick peculiar traits, why don't you tell me how many Caf-Pows you've had since we started working on this?"

"Hey, hey, that's not crucial to our job here! Stay on track!" Abby pointed a finger at McCrae, who smirked in response.

"Now who's avoiding the question?"

Abby merely shook her head. "Fine, be like that. I'll talk to the console; it has a nicer personality anyway."

"Abby, come on, I'm kidding."

The Goth smirked. "I knew I'd wear you down eventually. Abby, one; McCrae, nil!"

"Don't get too cocky, kiddo; you're playing with an old soldier here." McCrae allowed himself a small smirk of his own before dropping all joking. "Seriously, though," the Canadian turned himself in his seat to face her. "Why the interest all of a sudden?"

Abby gave a gesture of frustration towards the console before turning in her own seat. "I don't know, I guess I'm just bored."

McCrae raised an eyebrow. "You're bored on _this_ assignment?"

"No, I'm bored because this is taking so long. We're just sitting here sorting through all kinds of technical stuff with no idea if anything we do will turn out. And apart from a scary Russian mercenary walking in and back out again, there's not been much to keep us from falling asleep out of boredom."

"Except the half dozen Caf-Pows you drank this morning." McCrae pointed out.

Abby fixed him with a look. "For your information, it was _four_ Caf-Pows- the same as your _four_ coffees. Don't try to pull the whole 'trip Abby up on details' schtick on me, mister!"

"Whatever you say, kiddo. Go on."

"Anyway, I'm trying to think of things I haven't really thought of before, and that was one of the top things on my mind."

"JTF2 is one of the top things you decided you wanted to learn about?"

"Sure, why not? I have an expert on the subject sitting right beside me. I don't know a whole lot about Canada, and since I'm surrounded by so many Canadians all of a sudden, I figure I should learn a few things before I put my foot in my mouth talking about cultural differences."

"Well to start, we don't live in igloos or ride polar bears to work," McCrae said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Most of us, anyway."

Abby rolled her eyes. "I _know_ that. It's just, I've been working for a US agency my whole life and know about a lot of aspects of the US military-"

"But not a whole lot about others," McCrae finished.

"Right. So, spill. What's the deal with JTF2?"

"Stands for Joint Task Force 2. It's the elite of the elite in the Canadian Forces; when JTF2 is sent in, you know the situation's serious."

"They're really good then?"

McCrae smiled. "'Good' isn't acceptable by JTF2 standards. Nothing short of perfection is. And everyone else knows it; when the Navy SEALS need help, they call JTF2."

"Really?" Abby seemed amazed. "That's... wow, that's incredible."

"Yeah. A JTF2 operative is just about the most dangerous individual you can get on the planet. But you should know that, Abby; Gibbs' team met a former one a few years ago."

"What do you mean?"

"The Hellstorm incident."

"I... oh." Realization filled the Goth's eyes before they darkened slightly. "_Him_."

"Yeah, and because of _him_, I'm guessing your team and my former one got off on the wrong foot."

Abby shrugged, her face becoming normal again. "Well, that wasn't your fault. I'd forgotten about that actually."

"Well, then, maybe this should be the beginning of a new chapter." McCrae motioned around the cockpit. "Just you, me and this hunk of tin we're struggling to improve."

"Hey, don't call it that!" Abby reproached, placing her hands on her hips. "This is a delicate piece of technology! It needs care, nurturing." As if to accentuate her point, she began gently stroking the console with her fingertips. "It's okay, little one," she cooed as though talking to a baby. "I won't let the mean man break your cute, mechanical heart."

McCrae's eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline and he crossed his arms. "Really, Abby? I think you're taking the whole co-pilot job a little far."

"Well, you're the one who talked about opening a new chapter. Why shouldn't we all open it as one big happy family?"

"And what would that make you? The matriarch of the family?" McCrae teased.

"Ugh! That makes me sound so _old_!" Abby made a disgusted face.

"You're the one cooing at the controls like they're a newborn infant. I could almost say you've done this type of thing before- several times."

"Okay, okay, fine! Skip the family part! Can we just, like, try to fill the silence a little bit more from now on? The feeling of impending doom is hard enough as it is without listening to it!"

"Fair enough," the Canadian replied, turning back to his work. "As long as you don't start singing lullabies to that console. We need it to _kill_ the Blood Devils, Abby, not make baby noises at it."

"Don't worry; by the time I'm finished working my magic on _this_ baby, it'll be chewing those bastards up and spitting them back out." She turned to McCrae. "I just need one thing to make that happen."

"Which is?"

"Another Caf-Pow."

* * *

_**Day 4: Alleys near the Royal London Hospital, East End of **__**London, England, United Kingdom- 0905 GMT**_

"I don't give a goddamn _how_ early it is! Call Grimes and tell him to get his group prepped and ready! Dawson and his people went after that Paladin more than thirty minutes ago and we haven't heard a bloody thing from them since!"

"Maybe they just haven't found her yet."

"Or maybe they're all lying dead somewhere in this shithole of a district."

"Look, I don't care either way. We have to move all our stuff out the area. We can't let it be discovered."

"No kiddin'. You have any idea what _she_- and no, I'm not talking about the Paladin-would do to us if it was captured by the coppers? It would make what happened to Griffins last week seem like a vacation!"

"Speaking of which, when's she going to do something about that salesman Galsworthy? He knows where the main warehouse is. And then that dumb new girl Ashley decided to kill his partner. You know how spineless he is; if he thinks the heat is getting too much for him, the fat bastard might go talking to the coppers."

"I don't know. He's not innocent at all; maybe the Paladin will find him first and do our job for us."

Concealed in the shadows once again, Carolyn silently listened to the discussion. Her decision to investigate the more seedy parts of the district- those that the police rarely chose to visit- had been a wise one. It was clear that her presence in the area had disturbed the gang's plans; already news had spread about her targeting their members. This unexpected development had understandably caused panic within their ranks and an emergency meeting had been called. A group of a dozen members had gathered outside another, larger warehouse, although it was clear that neither her quarry nor this 'Ashley' girl, who apparently was responsible for the murder of the travelling salesman, was present. Nevertheless, the authority with which one of them, a black-haired woman in her mid-thirties, spoke made it clear that she was relatively high-ranking member of the gang. This group was likely a small division by itself, with the woman acting as their 'lieutenant'.

"Whatever. Let's go inside and talk about this. Someone might be listening."

A group of four gang members obligingly followed the woman into the warehouse, leaving the additional seven outside to guard it. These ones held their weapons loosely in their hands, unaware of the great danger that was observing them at that very moment.

_The woman will know where __**she**__ is,_ Carolyn thought to herself. _Or, at the very least, where this 'Ashley' is- another one that must be brought to justice._

It was clear to her that she must pursue absolutely all angles. Though it was likely that only the higher ranking members of the gang would know where to find her quarry, if the lieutenant could not provide it she would find someone who would. Perhaps the murderer of the salesman.

But first, she would deal with this group.

It was overwhelmingly clear that these members were not used to dealing with credible threats. They held their weapons at ease, their faces, though alert, were not focused enough; they had no reason to believe anyone would dare come onto their own turf and bring a fight them.

_A mistake that they will not live to regret_.

Stepping out of shadows, she moved silently but swiftly towards them. She stepped with the confidence of decades of experience. She stepped with the skill and confidence of a Paladin.

The guards didn't see her until it was too late.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Nigel said suddenly, stopping and raising his hand.

Everyone else stopped and tuned their ears in to what had caught the Australian's attention. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence in the empty side streets. Then another, unmistakeable sound penetrated the stillness.

"Sounds like screams... and bones breaking," Maria remarked. "My kind of music."

"It would appear that Carolyn West has found members of the Whitechapel gang already," Giguère remarked. "Unlikely to leave survivors."

"The noise came from that direction," Stephanie indicated to the left, withdrawing her handgun. "Let's go."

* * *

The gang member shouted out in pain as his head slammed against the wall, then gasped and choked as Carolyn's forearm pressed against his trachea, cutting off his air supply. He struggled to dislodge her limb from his throat but failed, only succeeding in provoking the Paladin to apply more pressure.

Carolyn's face was devoid of any emotion, except for a type of peaceful ease which mirrored her actions, as she pressed her arm closer against his throat. The Paladin had him exactly where she wanted him; trapped between her and the wall, he had no option but to give in to her demands.

"Where is she?" Though her tone was not loud or aggressive, there was no questioning the strength behind them.

"Who are you talkin' about?" The man gasped, trying in vain to free himself.

"The woman to whom you answer and of whom you are greatly afraid. Where do I find her?"

"I... I'm not sure! The main base, maybe? I've never met her! We were told to never ask her any questions!"

"Where is this base located?"

"I don't know!" The gang member's eyes bulged out as Carolyn again increased the pressure, holding back just enough to avoid making him pass out. "I swear on my life I don't know! I never been to it!" He croaked out and promptly felt an icy chill of terror when his eyes joined up with her unblinking ones. "I'm new to this gang! Please! Oh God..."

"God is not here," she replied smoothly. "I am. Talk to _me_. Who would know where to find her?"

"The... the lieutenant!" He made a jerky movement with his head towards the door just to the right. "She's a higher 'un than me! She's met with the boss before! She can tell you where it is!"

"How many are in the warehouse?"

"Fi- four." The ever so slight change in her eyes promptly eroded whatever bravery he had left; a feeling of warmth spread over him as his pants were quickly soaked in urine. "Okay, okay, five! Just the lieutenant and four others. That's all, I swear!"

Carolyn merely nodded and released her hold, watching as he collapsed to the ground and tried desperately to draw air into his lungs. "Thank you." She replied.

The man tilted his head up just in time to see a boot come down towards his face. After that, his world went dark.

* * *

"I'm sure it came from over here somewhere," Stephanie remarked. "Maybe it came from just inside one of the warehouses."

"Yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, there's more than one warehouse around here, princess," Maria responded, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Those noises didn't sound like they came from inside a warehouse," Nigel shook his head. "If anything, they probably came from right outside one."

"Hmm, difficult." Giguère pointed out. "There are many different directions one could take from here in which the target area could find itself."

"So does that mean we search every single one till we find her?" Gage asked, likely relishing the thought of kicking down the doors of every single warehouse in the district.

"No. If the gang is aware that West is in the district, they'll want to withdraw as far in as they can, into the area they feel safe in." Stephanie replied with confidence.

"How can you be so sure of that?" McGee asked.

"It's what I would do." The Canadian cocked her weapon. "Come on."

* * *

There was no hesitation in Carolyn's stride as she entered the main warehouse, nor was there any fear when the gang members immediately pointed their weapons at there. She memorized their positions, calculating the most effective means of attack against them; three of them were on the main floor, while the lieutenant and another of her bodyguards stood in a small room on the upper floor surrounded by glass windows on the right side of the warehouse. Five enemies in total was not a major threat to her, but she still needed the lieutenant alive to talk, adding a measure of complexity to her situation.

"Since you have not started firing yet, I assume you know who I am," Carolyn spoke as she strode to the centre of the room.

"Yeah, I know who you are," the lieutenant called down. "You're that Paladin bitch who killed our people earlier!" Despite her strong tone of voice, there was no mistaking the look of uncertainty in the woman's eyes. The rest of her group remained standing in place; despite their numbers advantage, it was clear their movements were cautious- even fearful.

"Your gang was taken over by a dangerous fugitive- a young woman," Carolyn said serenely, coming to a stop. "Tell me where she is."

There was glint of fear, ever so slight, in the lieutenant's eyes. Her tone, though steady, was unconvincing as she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," the Paladin responded. "Tell me where to find her and I will leave. Continue this pointless charade and you will leave me no choice but to obtain the answer through violence."

The lieutenant stared at her. "Are you _threatening _me, Paladin? You're surrounded on all sides! Who the hell do you think you are?"

Carolyn gave a silent sight. It was clear that as long as the woman believed she had at least some sort of advantage, she would persist in this act of foolishness. That would just need to be _removed_.

"As you wish."

With as sudden movement, Carolyn drew her pistol from the folds of her coat and shot the fuse box mounted on the far left wall, all in the space of half a second. The box sparked with electricity, causing the lights in the building to flicker and then dim noticeably. This momentary act of confusion caught the gang members off guard; they ducked and lowered their weapons- a critical mistake.

"Son of a bitch!" The lieutenant shouted, on the floor on one knee. "Kill her!"

In her younger years, Carolyn had enjoyed the heat of battle. The rush of adrenaline, the heat of bullets, the wind against her skin. Now, however, in her more mature years, she simply likened any conflict she was in to a dance routine; one calculated step after another. Suppress, disarm, kill, on to the next. Repeat. This fight would be no different.

Moving forward, she holstered her weapon and in two steps reached the first two men. Trapping the weapon hand of one under her arm, she turned it towards the other one just as the first one was pulling the trigger. The gang member's torso was ridden with bullets, dropping him on the spot.

Carolyn grabbed hold of her captive's wrist as she spun out away from him, twisting and breaking it with an audible _snap_, bringing the man screaming to his knees. A brutal kick under the jaw sent him flying back against a metal crate; his neck snapped as it came into contact with the edge of it.

The third gang member aimed his weapon at Carolyn, provoking her into sweeping the right side of her coat at him; a sudden gale force wind, lasting only a few seconds, overcame him, causing him to stumble back a few steps. Carolyn seized him the collar and threw him into the spill sparking fuse box. There was a brief scream followed by a sizzling sound and a shower of sparks, then silence fell over the room.

The lieutenant and her sole remaining bodyguard took a step back, both staring in shock at the destruction that had filled the warehouse in a mere matter of seconds.

Without a single false move, the Paladin turned and began walking towards the stairs leading to the upper floor.

* * *

"Over there!" Stephanie called out.

The team quickly followed the CSIS officer down the alleyway in front of them, where the muffled sounds of battle could be heard emanating from. The path provided clear evidence of Carolyn West's presence; dead bodies of gang members were scattered everywhere.

"Looks like we're at the right place," Nigel commented.

"The Paladin doesn't leave anyone alive," Gage commented. "I like her."

"Not entirely true," Giguère quickly went over and knelt beside one of the men lying beside the door to the nearby warehouse, taking his pulse. "This member- alive but unconscious. Appears to have next to no injuries. _C'est curieux._"

"From the smell of him, I'd guess the Paladin wanted him to talk," Maria remarked. "Looks like she got what she wanted. He's probably pissed more now than he ever has in his life."

A muffled noise from behind the door caught everyone's attention. "Looks like this is the place." McGee listened closely. "Sounds like there are more of them in there."

The team stacked up against the door, weapons at the ready, Stephanie and Nigel taking point on either side. Nigel tried the door handle. "It's unlocked," the Australian affirmed.

"Go."

Stephanie and Nigel entered the room first with their guns drawn, passing the weapons over every inch of the warehouse. Three male bodies lay on the floor, a clear indication of the battle that had taken place.

"First floor clear!" Nigel called.

"Contact above!" Stephanie shouted.

The rest of the team piled into the room, concentrating their focus on the second floor.

Just as the last members of the squad came through the doorway, a loud scream ripped through the air. Looking up, they caught sight of a male gang member crashing through one of the glass windows, flying straight towards them. In the blink of an eye, Gage drew his shotgun with one hand and fired at the man from point-blank range. The shot sent the man flying to the other edge of the room where he crashed and bounced once before laying still.

The team focused their attention back above, where the sole lone gang member, a black-haired woman, held a pistol loosely in her hand, slowly backing up until she was nearly at the edge of the now broken window. "You... you slaughtered them," she said in a frightened, unbelieving tone, her breathing substantially increased as she gaped at the older woman, who was now taking slow, deliberate steps towards her. "Those were my best men!"

"Tell me what I wish to know and I will leave here." Carolyn's voice was just as calm and serene as it was before, offsetting the danger behind her words.

"You think I'd _betray _her?" The lieutenant asked, shuffling her way to the right in a circle in an attempt to find an escape route. "She would cause me pain in ways you can't even _begin_ to imagine!"

Carolyn began walking slowly to the left, her eyes never leaving that of her enemy's. "The location of the main base. I advise you to consider your answer carefully, lieutenant. Your life hangs on it."

"That right? Go ahead, then! Kill me! The Whitechapel gang _will_ take you down, Paladin!" She raised her gun in defiance. "This city will be your grave!"

Carolyn's reactions were immediate. Launching out a hand, she knocked the weapon out of her enemy's grasp. Immediately afterwards, she grabbed hold of the front of her shirt with one hand and with little effort threw her backwards.

The woman went crashing though the remaining glass window overlooking the rest of the warehouse. She flew through the air, screaming as she went, arms and legs flailing helplessly. Her flight came to an abrupt end as she crashed heavily against one of the crates of illegal material collected by the gang.

Taking a few steps forward, Carolyn calmly jumped off the ledge. Grasping the folds of her coat, she spread them out wide to the side, allowing her to glide safely to the floor fifteen feet below. It was a move that had given her many thrills earlier in her life, especially when she had done it from much higher places. Now it was simply a useful manoeuvre to utilize when she needed it.

Judging from the expression on the woman's face, it was clear that it had achieved in intimidating her against further hostile action. Wide-eyed, the woman was now backpedalling on her hands and feet in an effort to get away.

Carolyn caught up to her in three long strides and brought her foot down on top of the lieutenant's throat, applying just enough pressure to allow her to breathe but not move. "Where is the location of the base she is at?"

The woman, staring up defiantly, grasped the Paladin's foot in a failed effort to pry it off of her. "Go..." she gasped. "Go fuck yourself."

Carolyn's face did not change in the slightest. The only emotion detectable was a flicker in her eyes- a flicker of regret. Her next words reflected this same emotion.

"May God forgive you for your crimes in the afterlife."

In one swift movement, she crushed the lieutenant's throat.

Stephanie gestured to the group to follow her and led them further into the room towards their target.

* * *

Carolyn took a step back from the body and gave it one final look before raising her head to look at the newcomers. Even though she had to have heard their arrival, it was only now that she appeared to truly notice them. Despite being armed, it was clear from their appearance that they were neither law enforcement nor gang members. Nonetheless, she approached them with an air of caution.

"My name is Carolyn West, an upholder of the Pledge of the Paladins." She gestured towards the bodies on the ground. "My conflict is with these Whitechapel gang members and yet I see multiple well-armed individuals before me."

She stopped in front of Stephanie, clearing having recognized her as the leader of the group, and stared unblinkingly into her eyes. "Are we ally or enemy?"

Before the Canadian could respond, McGee interjected, "That gang member was unarmed and injured! You didn't have to kill her."

Carolyn's eyes turned towards him. "I required information from her. She chose to withhold it, even under threat of death."

"So you just kill anyone who won't help you?" The junior field agent demanded.

"If my cause is righteous enough, then yes." Carolyn nodded. "Are you any different?"

"I'm a federal agent. My job is to protect people. If I have to kill someone, it's only as a last resort."

"I respect your dedication and feelings, but it is irrelevant," the Paladin responded. "You uphold the laws written by individuals. I answer to a ledge that is greater than any written law. If my actions are true to that pledge, I am righteous. If they are not, I am unrighteous. I won't pretend that it's a simple rule or an easy one, but I sleep well at night and that is enough for me."

McGee didn't look convinced, but was denied further remarks by Stephanie, who cut in. "We represent a multinational team headed by the Canadian intelligence agency CSIS. I'm CSIS Officer Stephanie Brewer."

"Officer Brewer," Carolyn gave a slight nod. "How may I be of service to you?"

"We're on a critical mission and we need your help."

What might have been the barest hint of a smile passed briefly over the Briton's lips. "I am humbled that you would ask me for help. Unfortunately, I am in the middle of an important investigation."

"We're going after a militant group called the Blood Devils. They're abducting naval bases across the world. We're going to hit them where they live. From what we hear, it's supposed to be a suicide mission. To be successful, we need to have the best." She nodded towards the Paladin. "We've heard that's you."

A look of almost flattery came across Carolyn's face at this compliment. "The Blood Devils are a worthy adversary," she responded interestedly. "I would relish testing my skills against them. However, I am in pursuit of a highly dangerous fugitive."

"Who?"

A certain coolness came across Carolyn's face, even though her tone remained neutral. "A British woman who has come here and taken over the Whitechapel gang and transformed it to suit her own criminal practices. I tracked her here, but the gang has succeeded in concealing her location. I must find her before she hears of my presence and decides to flee."

"I wish you were willing to go with them, Paladin." Everyone turned towards the entrance at the voice behind them; DI Seaton entered the warehouse, flanked on both sides by heavily-armed officers. She cast her eye over the carnage in the room, but made no comment; evidently in her eyes, the less she got involved in this business the better.

Carolyn gave an acknowledging nod. "Detective Inspector."

DI Seaton walked up beside the group; the two other officers hung back, seemingly hesitant to approach the Paladin out of fear or admiration. "I'm afraid I've been ordered to detain you if you won't leave."

"You risk a great deal by carrying out those orders, Detective Inspector." Another brief smile skimmed across Carolyn's lips. "Fortunately for you, I will not resist your efforts."

Seaton blinked, just barely keeping the surprise in her voice to a minimum. "You... you won't?"

"You won't?" McGee echoed.

"My Pledge commands that I cooperate with local law enforcement for twenty-four hours. After that, I must return to my task at hand."

Seaton frowned. "I won't be able to release you that soon."

"You won't be able to stop me," Carolyn replied in a matter of fact tone.

"Hold on a second, hold on a second," Nigel interjected. "Can someone please clarify? Some of the new people here are a little lost."

"I was trying to convince her to leave with you," Seaton responded frustratedly. "Give her a reason to get out of my district, but Paladins and their bloody Pledge..." She trailed off.

"The detective inspector has been ordered to detain me," Carolyn explained. "I cannot force her to disobey a direct order- not when her intentions are noble."

Stephanie's brows furrowed. "So that means after twenty-four hours, you'll fight your way out of custody?"

"Killing anyone who gets in your way?" McGee added.

Carolyn nodded solemnly. "I am afraid so."

Nigel huffed. "Whatever happened to law and order in this world? Seems all the rules went out the window the second we signed on to job."

Gage snorted. "Why bother? British attitudes haven't changed for hundreds of years. You make one mistake and everyone else has to clean it up when you run away from it."

"That's enough, Gage," Stephanie ordered before turning back to Carolyn. "What if we found and dealt with this fugitive you're after ourselves? Could you join us afterwards?"

"Under normal circumstances, I could not ask another to undertake a mission that I was originally pursuing. However, given the circumstances, this course of action is likely the only viable one." Carolyn nodded. "My Pledge also compels me to find the murderer of the salesman- a girl by the name of Ashley. I cannot leave this country without seeing that justice is delivered. If you do complete both of these tasks, I will be free to join you."

"Sure," Maria interjected. "Why not ask us to go break up an under-age drinking party while we're here? Since you probably view that as an unpardonable offence as well."

"Is it really that easy?" McGee questioned. "Just a minute ago, you said you couldn't leave your investigation. Now you're swearing to follow us if we complete a few simple tasks?"

"If I stay," Carolyn said, "I will be forced to kill many innocents in order to escape incarceration."

"Like me," Seaton added, to which McGee gave an understanding nod.

"I may very well be killed and my quarry will be free to continue her horrific criminal acts. If you finish what I started and I come with you, I may at least have some time to experience my new-found peace before your mission."

"Hmm, difficult situation," Giguère murmured. "Slim odds are better than zero odds. It is the logical choice; improbable perhaps, but not impossible."

"That's putting it lightly," Nigel said. "From my view, the odds are slightly less than improbable. Still... better than having to kill countless innocents just to escape."

Gage scoffed loudly. "Being forced to kill just because of a damn pledge. How stupid can you get?"

"Yeah," Maria grinned widely. "Killing's always better when it's on the fly, isn't it?"

"Alright," Stephanie interjected, attempting to reestablish control over the situation. "Regardless of the odds, any chance of success is better than no chance at all. That's what our whole mission is about anyway. Do you have any leads?"

"The travelling salesman, Reginald Galsworthy," Carolyn declared. "He is involved in this to some extent. Get the truth out of him. He will likely try to leave the country as soon as possible; I recommend haste."

"Good," Maria smirked. "I like to 'get social' with his type."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," DI Seaton said. "Mostly because my arse is on the line here as well." She turned back to Carolyn. "Well... I need to get back to my station. And I guess I have to take you with me- unarmed."

Carolyn nodded. She reached into the back of her coat and withdrew her weapons. As she handed them over to the DI, she turned towards Stephanie. "Thank you, Officer Brewer." When the Canadian nodded in turn, the Paladin added, "I look forward, as well, to meeting the true leader of this team when the time comes. Good luck."

As she turned and left with the three officers, an awkward, partially stunned silence fell over the group. It was Nigel who broke the silence.

"So... who wants to go find a portly business man?"

**A/N: Please review and give me feedback!**

**Damn, that took a while. Sorry for the delay; I'll try to update more often.**

**In keeping with an all-star cast, I'm placing Helen Mirren in the role of Carolyn. Interesting, considering she's a self-declared atheist and Paladins serve a rather 'godly' purpose.**

**In countries such as the UK, Canada and Australia, 'lieutenant' is pronounced 'left-tenant'. That's how it should be read in this chapter as well as when non-American characters use it.**

**Next chapter will continue this part, plus return to Gibbs, Tony and Ziva for a little bit!**


	37. Tracking Targets

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: East End of ****London, England, United Kingdom- 0948 GMT**_

"We should have asked Galsworthy about the gang's base of operations when we talked to him earlier," McGee remarked as the team walked along quickly, navigating the narrow streets.

"Couldn't have known," Nigel answered. "We were trying to find the Paladin, not the Whitechapel gang. We only asked what we had to at the time."

"Maybe." McGee frowned. He had spent too many years with Gibbs to believe that was a credible reason. "We still should have thought of it earlier."

"Well, when we find him, we'll make sure that he doesn't leave again until we're satisfied hes told us _all_ he knows," Stephanie, who was leading the group, replied.

"Question," Giguère spoke up, his short legs moving briskly to keep pace with the rest of the group. "How do we know where the salesman finds himself now? Given desperation to leave, he may even have found away to quit London. Perhaps even Britain."

"He's still here," the Canadian responded. "And I have an idea as to where he is."

"And if he's not there, Stephanie?" Nigel asked. "What if you're wrong?"

"I'm never wrong." Stephanie turned and gave a confident smirk to the Australian, to which Maria responded with a snort. "I would've thought you would have learned that by now, Nigel."

"Assuming we do find him and he knows where the gang's base is," McGee said, "what's to stop him from alerting them that we're on the way?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Stephanie answered.

"But if it does?"

The CSIS officer turned and fixed him with a no-bullshit look. "We'll take care of it."

A slight shiver ran down the spine of the MIT graduate and he didn't press Stephanie as to what exactly she meant by _that_.

"Let's try and exercise all our options before it comes to that," Nigel interjected, apparently just at unease about her possible insinuations as McGee.

"But if it does," Maria said, "I'll get first crack at that fat bastard."

"The hell you will, Brazilian. You do that, you won't leave anything for the rest of us," Gage argued. "The first shot's mine."

"Fuck you, _puto_. No one goes over me and walks away. You try to screw me over, I'll rip you a new asshole."

"You don't have the guts to try."

"Oh really? Let's see if you still have yours after I'm done."

"Enough!" Stephanie interrupted, raising her voice to be heard over the increasingly loud ones of the two. She turned around to glare at the two. "We have bigger issues to worry about."

"Sure, whatever," Maria muttered. Gage merely grunted in response.

"What's the plan for when we find him?" McGee asked.

"To start, we'll make sure his bodyguards don't interfere in our questioning," Stephanie replied.

"I can do that," Maria said with a feral grin.

"So can I," rumbled Gage.

"Then we ask him where the base is. If he's smart, he'll tell us right away."

"And if he does not?" Giguère questioned.

A dark look came into Stephanie's eyes. "Like I said, we'll deal with it."

* * *

_**Canary Wharf, London, England, UK- 1001 GMT**_

"Tony! You bump me with your elbow one more time and I will kill you with this pen!"

"Oh, excu-uuse _me_, Agent David! Next time we're in a surveillance van, I'll be sure to stand instead of sit. That way I'll hit you with my knee instead!"

"I hope you try that. I have been looking for a reason to show you what a broken kneecap feels like."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Zee-vah, but someone's already beaten you to the punch on that."

"Oh believe me- you will be wishing it was a mere punch to the knee."

"No, I meant- okay, you know what? Screw it. I'm not going to bother telling you what that means. I'm going to let you find out the _hard_ way!"

_Thwack!_

"Ouch!"

_Thwack!_

"Ow!"

"How about you two focus more on the schematics of that tower?" Gibbs said, the 'suggestion' sounding much more like an order. "You know, so we can figure out how to get to Rutherford without getting killed? After that, you can concentrate on how to inflict as much pain as you want on the New Dawn security forces. _Until_ that point in time, quit screwing around and get back to work!"

"Got it, boss." Tony sighed as he returned to the building plans that Hathaway had provided for them.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted," Ziva said, glaring at Tony who stuck his tongue out at her, "we cannot get up to the penthouse through this side stairwell. It only goes up halfway and leaves very little room for cover."

"Memorize it anyway," Gibbs ordered. "We need to know every possible route in or out of that building. If we have to make a quick escape, we might need it."

"Yeah, being chased by a group of heavily-armed mercenaries would probably fall under that category," Tony said, making an asterisk next to the staircase in question on the sheet in front of him.

"I still do not like it," Ziva argued. "There is too much space on the upper floors to be fired upon. We cannot keep an eye in front of us and above us at all times. It is too risky."

"Well, what would you suggest we do, Zee-vah?" Tony asked sarcastically. "Call Shelia Rutherford, ask her politely if she'll tell her security to not blow our heads off the minute we enter the building and then ride the elevator up to her penthouse?"

Ziva fixed him with another glare. "No. But we need to avoid as much confrontation as possible. Skilled as we are, we are only three. There are likely dozens of security personnel to be throughout the building. We will run out of bullets long before they will unless we are careful."

"Rules out the front and back entrances," Gibbs replied. He was staring intently at the sheet in his hand, as though doing so would somehow intimidate it into revealing the best route for them. "Security's tightest there. Gotta find another way."

Ziva stood up. "I am going to see if I can see any other spots we could use to our advantage," she said, moving towards the back doors.

"Uh, isn't the whole point of surveillance to view from afar so you don't, uh, you know- _get _seen?" Tony's sarcasm came through once again.

Ziva turned back to him, a smirk on her face. "You of all people should know that I am never seen unless I want to be, Tony."

"_Really?_" Tony asked sarcastically.

"Yes. By the way, you really should stop playing with your hair so much when you are standing in front of a vending machine. It is disgusting and it makes you look even more vain and narcissistic than you already are." With that, she deftly turned and walked out of the van.

Tony stared as the doors closed back up. "Can you believe that, boss? That she, of all people, would accuse _me_ of vanity and narcissism. Me! Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"You really want me to answer that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked without looking up.

"Meanwhile, _she_ goes about blissfully mangling the English language and trying to win some kind of Snore-a-thon," the ex-cop murmured under his breath.

"You wanna point out the peculiarities of everyone else, Tony, do it on your own time," Gibbs said pointedly. "In the meantime, how about trying to come up with a plan that will get us up to the penthouse alive?"

Tony sighed once again before consulting the schematics once again. "I'm going to be seeing lines and boxes for the next few days if I keep staring at this much longer."

"You say something, DiNozzo?"

"No, boss." Tony turned his attention to the sheet. After studying it for a few moments, he said, "You know, if Rutherford was really as paranoid as Hathaway said she was, she's bound to have several escape routes planned."

"If so, then Park will know about them too."

"He could try to catch her leaving by one of them. Or when she comes back at the end of the day."

"Doubt it," Gibbs grunted. "Too many areas to cover at once. He'll want to get her in one place before she can get away. That means an offensive attack, not a defensive one."

"Any ideas where he'll plan to do that?"

"Rutherford's paranoia is such that she won't go anywhere too open or unfamiliar. She'll want any confrontation to be on her terms- to have the advantage." Gibbs looked at him. "She'll take refuge in the place she feels the most secure."

"Her penthouse."

"Yep. Probably where she'll keep her most elite bodyguards. And if Hathaway was right about Park wanting to avoid civilian casualties, where they're the least likely to be. It's the most obvious place he'd strike."

"Boss, not to discount your gut," Tony started, "but we know next to nothing about how this guy operates. What if Hathaway was wrong? We might end up in the middle of a huge firefight in the lobby right as the work day ends."

"You got a better idea, DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded.

Tony held firm. "I'm just saying that our information is really sketchy here, boss. We're running in the dark without flashlights- worse than Jodie Foster in _Silence of the Lambs._" Gibbs raised an eyebrow at this reference which Tony didn't seem to notice. "Besides, how do we know he'll even want to come with us? He's an assassin; they're not exactly used to working in teams."

"Thought you'd be used to working with assassins by now," Gibbs remarked, returning to the schematic in front of him. "You've had six years to practice."

"Yeah, but this is different. Ziva was an ally government-backed assassin. This guy kills for money; might be the only thing he's loyal to. How many of those have we come across over the years? There's a difference here, boss." Tony stared at Gibbs firmly. "Don't act like you haven't thought of it too."

"Never said I haven't, DiNozzo. But I don't have the luxury of running my own background checks on all these new recruits. We gotta use what we have right now. When the time comes, _if_ Park decides his paycheck is more important than human lives, we'll deal with that then."

"You really think it's gonna be as simple as that?"

Gibbs looked up to stare at Tony. "Why don't you tell me, Tony? What about this whole situation is even _remotely_ simple?"

"Look, boss, I'll be the first to admit that our job has never been a cakewalk but we were almost always the ones running it. Even for things that we didn't anticipate when we signed up- Somalia, Mexico- we were always the ones calling the shots. This time we've got Brewer and CSIS and everyone else telling us what we're up against. It's strange; 'hinky' Abby would call it. I just wanna make sure we're not rushing into battle without some damn good backup."

"Kinda late for wondering about that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, although he agreed completely with his senior field agent. "If we wanted to keep things simple, we'd have undertaken this op ourselves."

"Should we have?"

Gibbs paused, noting that Tony had not asked him _could_ they have. "Not sure how long it would've taken us to find everything out. Would we have discovered what was really going on? Maybe, maybe not. But we're here now. Nothing we can do to change that."

"But-"

"Look, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted, giving Tony a look that said 'you damn well better listen well'. "Since this op began, we've nearly been blown up. The naval yard's been destroyed. We basically got railroaded into working with a foreign intelligence service. The ones responsible for the abductions possess technology that's never been seen before. And the people who've been 'suggested' to work with us consist of a scientist who thinks killing civilians can be justified, a police officer who acts more like the criminals she was supposed to stop, a super-soldier with the mindset of a testosterone-driven teenager and two intelligence agents who would probably gun _us_ down if they were ordered to. Now we've been ordered to bring along an assassin who kills for money, an elite warrior we know virtually nothing about and a mercenary who I wouldn't be surprised should be locked up for life in The Hague for war crimes." His eyes pierced into Tony's. "Now you tell me- do you think I would've agreed to _any_ of this if I didn't absolutely have to, DiNozzo?"

"Um," Tony rubbed the back of his neck. "No, probably not, boss."

"Then quit wasting time dwelling on the should'ves, could'ves and would'ves. We are where we are because of the circumstances. Nothing we could've done to prevent that. Unless of course, you'd have rather been blown up at the naval base."

"No, boss." Tony sighed. "I guess I just don't want our team to become disenfranchised. Look at us now; you, me and Ziva are here while McGee is off with a group of rogues led by an ice queen. I don't want our team broken up again. It sucked the last few times and it sucks now."

Gibbs didn't respond to Tony's remark at first, but then again there was really no need to. He remembered all too well the last time the team had been broken up; Tony had been stationed aboard the _USS_ _Ronald Reagan _as Agent Afloat, Ziva had remained is Israel, and McGee had been sent back down to Cyber Crimes. It was hell then and it had remained hell the entire time. He had no intention of letting it happen again.

"Yeah, it does, DiNozzo. But as long as I'm in charge, we'll all be here, working together just like we always have. Wouldn't agree to this op if we couldn't. We're still a team- we just have to work with a few new people and a different agency. As far as I'm concerned, NCIS is still in charge."

Tony gave a grin. "Does that mean I'm still your favourite?"

_Thwack!_

"Ouch! Guess not."

"What made you think you ever were a favourite, Tony?"

"Uh... my million dollar smile?" Tony said, giving another example of this. "I mean, I know I got a lot of good features, boss, but that one kinda stands out, I think."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Look at it this way, DiNozzo; out of all the people I'm supposed to lead on this team, no matter what happens, the only ones I know for certain I can count on are the ones who've _proven_ I can count on them. And you should know it takes a lot of time to prove something like that to me."

"Yeah. Damn, how long did it take me to prove it?"

"Right after you took your first head slap."

Tony grimaced. "Oh yeah. Been trying to block that memory out, boss."

Gibbs barely suppressed a smirk. "Survived it though, didn't ya? Did a lot to earn my trust that day. And it's paid off, Tony. If I'm walking into hell, I need someone I can trust to have my six on my side."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You realize of course this plan has me walking into hell too?"

"Never heard you complain about it before."

Tony gave a chuckle. "Just like old times, boss."

"Damn straight." This time Gibbs allowed himself a small smirk.

Whatever the two men had been planning to say next was abruptly interrupted; the back doors swung open and in strode Ziva, who briskly closed them back behind her.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That was quick," he remarked. "Is our little ninja not quite as patient as she once was?"

Ziva ignored him. "We are being watched."

"Hmm?" Gibbs looked up. "What do you mean?"

"There is a woman on the other side of the square who keeps glancing at the surveillance van," she explained. "She has also been robbing glances at Rutherford Tower as well."

"_Stealing_ glances," Tony corrected.

"Whatever."

"You sure about that, Ziver?" Gibbs questioned.

"I know when someone is watching something, Gibbs. She is certainly not being conspicuous, but I am sure of what she is doing."

The senior agent rose. "Show me."

The three agents exited the van, Ziva leading them to the side that faced the towers. She nodded in the opposite direction. "The centre bench across the street."

Gibbs and Tony peered around the van in the direction she was indicating. In the place in question sat a petite, decidedly feminine figure wearing black boots and dressed in a long dark coat that looked to be either black or navy blue. Her hands were folded in her lap and a hood was pulled up over her head, making it impossible to see her face or any distinguishing features. Her head was also bowed slightly and it was not clear to Gibbs just which direction the woman was looking.

"How can you tell where she's looking?" Tony demanded; apparently he too was a bit confused. "I can't even tell what colour her skin is!"

"I have been doing this for a long time, Tony. Believe me; she has been looking mostly at the tower for the last couple of minutes, but has also taken several glances at the van."

"A tourist in trouble maybe?"

Ziva shook her head. "This is not a case of simply taking in the view. The way in which she shifts her glances- almost as if she is connecting us to the building in some way."

"Maybe she is," Gibbs replied.

Tony looked at him. "You think maybe she's spying for Rutherford?"

"One way to find out." Gibbs checked his side automatically to make sure his weapon was there. Tony and Ziva looked over at him. "You are going to directly confront her?" Ziva questioned rather incredulously.

"Don't really have the time for fancy ambushes," the team leader responded. "Stay here and keep an eye out. Be prepared to give me backup in case I end up needing it."

"You really think it's a good idea to approach her alone and directly, boss?" Tony asked uncertainly.

"Not a matter of it being a good idea, DiNozzo. Matter of it being the only idea right now." Gibbs didn't leave either of his agents the time to contradict him further and walked out from behind the van.

Tony and Ziva watched him go, both checking to make sure their own weapons were at their sides and ready for use in case they needed them. Tony sighed. "Sometimes, in these cases, I wonder if he does these things just to see whether he can actually be killed." He looked at her. "You ever think about that?"

Ziva's face said nothing, but her words left much to the imagination. "More than you know."

* * *

Gibbs approached the figure cautiously, his hand resting close to his side. He didn't walk in a straight line but rather in a slight curve, ready to make a quick move if necessary.

He was about ten feet away from the woman, ready to ask her what was going on, when she surprised him by speaking first. "Finally," she said without looking up; her voice flowed with a notable but not overly heavy exotic accent. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to break into your van to talk to you, Agent Gibbs."

There were very few times that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was caught off guard and found himself at a temporary loss for words, but this was one of them. "You know who I am?" He asked after a moment.

"Of course; I've only been waiting for you for six hours." She raised her head towards him and underneath the hood, Gibbs got a glimpse of a brown-faced young woman of decidedly South Asian ethnicity with a mischievous grin. "I was beginning to think you'd never get here. Not can you please tell your agents to put away their weapons and come over here? Miss Rutherford is not going to wait for you to come up with a plan to get into her penthouse."

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. Please review and give me feedback!**


	38. Unexpected Help

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Mass Effect, Resident Evil or anything else that may seem familiar about this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: Canary Wharf, ****London, England, United Kingdom- 1013 GMT**_

"You're going to have to explain that to me," Gibbs said cautiously, observing the woman in front of him. Despite her small size, she looked very nimble, which could easily work to his disadvantage if things went badly. "How do you-"

"How do I know what you're in London for?" She leaned back in her seat. "Let's just say I have my methods, Agent Gibbs."

"I'm sure you do. That doesn't explain who you are or what you want."

"I'll be happy to tell you, but I think your team members will want to hear it too. It's... kind of complex; I don't want to waste our time by having to repeat it."

Gibbs stared at her for another moment, trying to determine whether or not she was being sincere with her request. Deciding that it was unlikely he was about to lead team into an ambush, he waved them over, all the while keeping a hand near his gun just in case- something Tony and Ziva did as well as they came over and stood by Gibbs.

"Alright, start explaining," the team leader said. "Your name would be a good place."

"And what you want from us as well," Ziva added.

The woman merely shrugged and smiled. At the same time, Gibbs' earpiece beeped and a female voice that sounded a lot like hers spoke. _"Special Agent Gibbs! Enter your code now to receive the gift of a lifetime for free!"_

Apparently his teammates heard it as well. "Uh, boss, did you just get some strange message on your earpiece?" A confused Tony asked, tapping his own.

Gibbs turned back to stare at the woman, who stared back innocently at him.

"Gibbs, what is going on?" Ziva questioned.

"_Being attacked by devils who are after your blood? Try Shoumo's removal services!"_

Gibbs studied the woman's face intensely. Though he had no doubt the voice on the link was hers, there was no indication she had spoken at all as her lips remained motionless. He had the distinct feeling there was a lot more to her than met the eye but he just couldn't figure out what.

"_Special Agent Gibbs- the finest companions in the world are at your disposal! Perhaps you would like to try something nimble, intelligent and Indian?"_

Gibbs merely looked at her, his expression somewhere between serious and slightly amused.

"Gibbs, I think there is an insect in the communication system," Ziva declared, tapping her earpiece.

"_Bug_, Ziva. The term is 'there is a _bug_ in the system'," Tony corrected.

"Whatever. There is either some interference in the system or someone has hacked our units. I keep hearing these stupid advertisements for stuff."

"Beg pardon girl, but I only offer the best."

Tony and Ziva both looked caught off guard, the former actually jumping a little bit. "What the hell?" Tony said.

Gibbs crossed his arms. "You're not gonna try to tell me you're some kind of ventriloquist. Those messages were on our comm systems. And different ads are rarely presented by the same person." It was taking a lot of effort on his part to avoid smirking. "If you want to be low-key, you might wanna keep that in mind."

"Hmm." The woman cocked her head. "You're right. I guess there's always room for improvement, even among the greatest in the business."

"Depends what business we're talking about. You clearly know who I am. And you are?"

She bowed her head. "Pleased to finally meet you in person, Agent Gibbs. Shoumo Bose. I guess you could say I'm a bit of a fan. And your companions are?"

"Specials Agents Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David," Tony answered for both of them.

She bowed again. "I'm glad to make all of your acquaintances."

"You mind telling us just who you are exactly and why you're watching us?" Gibbs demanded.

Shoumo smiled. "I'm the best in the world at what I do."

"What _do_ you do?"

"I'm interested in very rare items. Expensive ones, one that are extremely difficult to find. In order to be successful at that, I have to travel around incognito. It wouldn't do well for me to gather a reputation."

"You are a thief," Ziva stated so directly it surprised even Gibbs.

"Very good, Agent David. Yes, I am. And now you can understand my need for discretion."

"Not really discreet if you're telling three US federal agents about it," Tony pointed out.

"You're not acting as federal agents now," Shoumo declared. "You're here in London for a specific purpose, not to arrest a mere collector of valuable things. Still, that doesn't mean I want to advertise it; it might make crossing borders uninhibited a little more difficult."

"I don't get it," Tony said.

Once again, Ziva was the one to surprise them with a response. "Once you have a name, or a picture, there is no escaping from it," the former Israeli stated. "There is never that same level of anonymity that there was before."

Shoumo blinked. "Huh, that's strange. I've never seen you around any of the International Thieves Conventions," she quipped.

"She's not a thief, she's a former assassin," Tony pointed out.

Ziva promptly shoved an elbow into his side and glared at him. "I am going to be a _current_ assassin if you keep opening your mouth," she threatened.

"How cute," Shoumo chirped. "Well, in any case, you know how important staying in the shadows is. Some people go for fame, notoriety. Me? I prefer to enjoy the fruits of my labour in the company of one- myself."

"That still doesn't explain how you know us or what you're here for," Gibbs said impatiently.

"Simply put, we have a mutual acquaintance."

"Who's that?"

The Indian reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Dialling a number, she handed it to Gibbs.

A moment later, a voice on the other end grunted, "_Better be important_."

Gibbs' eyebrows raised significantly. The voice on the other end was not only familiar to him, but very unexpected. "It's always important when it comes to me." He paused for a second. "Kort."

"_Ah, I was wondering when I was gonna hear from you, Gibbs. You don't call seem to call very often any more._"

"Never had a reason to call," Gibbs replied as Tony and Ziva looked on in shock in the background.

"_You do now, though._"

"So it seems."

"_Lemme guess. She's petite, she's Indian and she's got a smile that would make you think she's innocent even she had a smokin' gun in her hand_."

"She one of yours?"

"_That depends what you mean. She's not CIA, if that's what you're asking_."

"An informant?"

"_I think the term 'occasional useful resource' would be more accurate._"

"Still the people person, aren't ya?" Gibbs said sarcastically.

"_Comin' from you, that really is something._"

"Not gonna trade character flaws with ya, Kort. Just give me some damn answers. Who is she _exactly_?"

"_Between you and me? Just about the most skilled thief this world's ever seen._"

"That doesn't help me. How the hell does she know that we were coming here?"

"_Keep your shirt on, Gibbs. I sent her there, alright?_"

"Why?"

"_Let's just say we have a-_"

"Kort, if you say 'mutual acquaintance', I'll hunt you down and kill you myself," Gibbs threatened.

"_Actually, I was going to say we have an understanding with other intelligence agencies,_" Kort countered. "_CSIS, for example._"

Gibbs cursed under his breath, anticipating what was coming. "Lemme guess. Director Delcourt asked you for a favour."

"_Well, we do owe each other ones from time to time. He wanted a skilled specialist and I happened to know one who would be in the neighbourhood._"

Gibbs paused. "What the hell does that mean?"

"_I'll let Shoumo discuss the details. For now, all that you should know right now is that you have a very skilled individual offering her help, Gibbs. I wouldn't let it go to waste._"

"You'll forgive me if I don't automatically take your word, Kort."

"_Look Gibbs, I know damn well where we stand. I don't like you and you don't like me. That's doesn't mean everything I tell you is a lie._"

"In the past, a lot of it was."

"_I'm not gonna start arguing about this with ya, Gibbs,_" Kort grumbled."_You want to know about your new-found companion? Here it is: she's the world's best professional thief with good skills in both marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You can take it from me._"

"There, you see?" Gibbs smirked. "That wasn't so hard."

"_Yeah, sure. Look, she's got skills, Gibbs. I wouldn't agree to send her if she didn't. She's a good girl; you may not trust me on most things, but trust me on this. Plus she's got a few extra tricks of her own._"

"And those would be?"

"_Again, I'll let you Shoumo give you the rundown._"

"Another request for my trust?"

"_What's wrong with that?_"

"Your friends in Langley made it a little difficult to swallow."

"_I wasn't a part of that, and even if I was, I wouldn't talk about it. You have your secrets and I have mine._"

"Except I try to avoid killing people with mine whenever possible."

"_We each have our methods, Gibbs. Yours aren't exactly squeaky clean. Don't lecture me on how I do my job._"

"Doubt you'd listen to reason anyway," Gibbs said coolly.

"_Whatever. You wanted to know who Shoumo was, you got it. She's got skills and she can be trusted. How you use that information is up to you._"

"Funny," Gibbs replied. "Delcourt said something similar yesterday. I gave him the courtesy of response."

"_So what?_"

"I'm all out of courtesy." Gibbs promptly hung up without waiting for an answer.

Shoumo gave another mischievous smile as she retrieved her property. "That was probably the most amusing exchange I've ever witnessed. You and old Trenty know each other?"

"In a way," Gibbs grunted.

"Is that in a good way or a bad way?"

"Bad," Ziva replied.

"How bad?"

"He blew up my car," Tony said with obvious distaste.

"With someone else in it," Ziva added.

Shoumo's eyebrows shot up to the hairline. "Really? Wow. I mean, there are a lot of bad things you can do to a man but screwing with his car? That's just pushing it."

"That is nothing. You should see what happens when you screw around with his movie collection," Ziva said teasingly.

"Hardy freakin' har," Tony retorted back at her.

"Speaking of screwing around, what exactly was that crap on the comm systems and how did it get there?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"Oh, that was me just having a bit of fun," Shoumo shrugged innocently. "As for how it got there, it's simple; I hacked into your comm systems and put them there."

Gibbs stared at her. "Really?" He deadpanned.

"I happen to have a bit of skill in that area. It comes in handy when I'm on 'jobs'."

"And just what _job_ would you happen to be on here?"

"A job that ties into your job here."

"How do you even know what we are here for?" Ziva asked.

"Kort and Delcourt trade favours," Gibbs said curtly. "She just has the luck of being useful."

Shoumo gave a mock look of shock. "I resent that very much, Gibbs! Just because of my job, you think I don't have standards? I may be here primarily on personal business, but once I was told of your mission, I just couldn't leave it alone."

"Assuming I buy all of this, why didn't Delcourt come out and tell us about it?" Gibbs asked.

"I doubt he knew I was here until after you guys had arrived," Shoumo replied. "Besides, I had to make sure this was really legitimate. Not that I think that Kort would send me into a trap but you'd be surprised how many people would be willing to get their hands on a master thief. Girl has to be careful. Now that I have met you however, there is no doubt in my mind." She nodded. "You are the one and only Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"How can you be so sure?" The team leader pressed.

"There is a certain..." Shoumo struggled to put her thoughts into words, "_Aura_ about you. A strength I have rarely seen in anyone in my entire life. I was told there would be no way to mistake your presence. And I didn't."

"So... you're some kinda mind-reader too?" Tony questioned uncertainly.

Shoumo chuckled playfully. "I wish, but no. I have a good many tricks up my sleeve, but I'm not that good."

"Good, 'cause one on this team is enough."

"Who is the other one?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs turned around and stared at her silently, and she immediately recognized what it meant. "Oh, of course! I am sorry, I forgot."

"Six years on this team and you forget about _that_?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Do not act like you have not done the same!"

"If you two are done," Gibbs interrupted brusquely, "we still got a job to do and we need a plan to do it." He turned back forward. "Right now."

"So I've been told."

The three federal agents spun around to see Shoumo standing a few feet away. Tony gave a startled shout at the sight.

The Indian smiled at his declaration. "No need for violence," she said, folding her hands behind her back. "I was just having a little fun."

The agents moved their hands away from their weapons, albeit cautiously. "How exactly did you get behind us so quickly without us seeing?" Ziva asked suspiciously.

Shoumo merely gave an innocent shrug. "As I said, I have many skills."

Tony shook his head. "For once, boss, I think Delcourt was right in his decision. She _is_ good. She's even giving Ziva a run for her money."

"Money?" The former Israeli had a very confused look on her face. "What money? I do not have any money."

"Keep trying, Zee, you'll get it eventually."

"I really hope you don't mind," Shoumo cut in, "but I _really_ hate just sitting around and waiting for anything, so I took the liberty of moving all of my things into your plane a couple of hours ago."

"Funny that the people aboard haven't told us that," the team leader pointed out.

"That's because they, um, didn't know I was there. I transported everything aboard, took a look around- really nice craft, by the way- and then left to find you."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And just how the hell did you manage to do all that undetected?"

"I have my ways," Shoumo said playfully.

"So I see, but there's still one question you haven't answered." Gibbs leaned in close to her face. "_What job are you here for?_"

"I'll be glad to tell you," the Indian responded, looking around "but don't you think we should discuss it somewhere more private? You never know who's listening."

Gibbs stared at her some more, trying to see if there was any deceit or hidden agenda in her face. Unable to detect anything, he motioned with his head towards the surveillance van. "After you."

"A man with my way of thinking. So rare," Shoumo teased. "Let's go."

* * *

Inside the van, Shoumo sat on the floor and stretched her legs out in front her. "Roomy," she observed. "I could get used to this. Lots of nice, expensive things in here."

"If you're thinking of stealing anything-" Gibbs started.

Shoumo quickly waved a hand. "Don't worry. A lot of this stuff I have no use for. Besides, if I wanted it, I'd have taken it without saying anything."

"Kort mentioned that you're in London on personal business. What was he talking about?"

"I'm here to retrieve a computer chip that belonged to my mentor. Sheila Rutherford stole it and I'm here to... relieve her of it."

"Steal it back," Tony clarified.

She shrugged her shoulders. "However you want to call it."

"Why is the chip so important?" Gibbs pressed. "What did it have on it?"

"I don't know," Shoumo replied. "All I know was that it was important enough to never leave his person. You can imagine what kind of information get can stored on a single chip. My mentor Dhananjay Kapur always kept it with him- until Rutherford had him killed and stole it."

"Are you looking to avenge his death?" Ziva asked seriously, concerned about the possibility of their operation being compromised by a vigilante hunt.

Shoumo shook her head. "Not the way I operate. I'm a thief, not an assassin. If he happens to get in my way and I'm forced to kill him in 'self-defence', that's another story, but right now my concern is retrieving that chip. Besides, the way I've heard it, someone's already gunning for her."

"Sounds like that chip means just as much to you as it did your mentor," Tony observed.

"Dhananjay was more than a mentor to me. He was a father figure, one of the greatest men I've ever known." The Indian bit her lip to stifle her emotion. "He taught me everything I know about my job. He was one of the best in the business. Unfortunately, he became infamous."

"A name and a face," Gibbs translated.

Shoumo nodded. "He made a mistake and stole something he really shouldn't have."

"Which was?"

"Again, I don't know. He wouldn't talk about it. All he would say was that if it was ever released to the general public, it could rock the foundations of the entire world forever."

The three NCIS agents exchanged glances. The entire _world_? What kind of information was important enough to have an impact like _that_?

"And he stored the information on that chip?"

"Yes." Shoumo lifted her head a little higher. "That chip dates back to the very first day I met him. It's all that I have left of him and it deserves better than being in the possession of the likes of Sheila Rutherford."

"I'm sorry about your mentor," Tony replied seriously, even though he felt strange offering condolences about a man who made his living by breaking the law. "He sounded like he meant a lot to you."

"He did," Shoumo offered a small smile in an attempt to stay positive. "And thanks. But I'll be a lot happier when I have that chip."

"What can you tell us about Rutherford?" Ziva steered the conversation back on track, hoping to gain more information on their target.

"Miss Rutherford is a very highly regarded 'businesswoman'." The distaste was evident in Shoumo's voice. "Business tyrant, trafficker, _murderer_. Not someone you'd go with for a girl's night out."

"Trafficker of what?" Gibbs probed.

"Weapons, money, drugs, you name it, she's done it. There's never any evidence linking her to it, of course. And it seems people stop asking questions when your name appears on certain party invite lists."

"Yeah well, I'm not here to ask questions," Gibbs grunted.

"Good thing. The last person that did was a journalist trying to link her to the Russian mafia. The police pulled his body out of the English Channel a month later."

Tony snorted and shook his head. Gibbs, however, passed a glance over Ziva, who he noticed had a rather strange, almost guilty look on her face for a split second before her usual mask appeared to conceal it. He made note of it in his mind, but didn't bring it up. He would do that later. "Like I said, I'm not gonna be asking her any questions."

"You're not only one." Shoumo cocked her head. "I hear Rutherford may be receiving an uninvited visitor tonight. One that's not interested in 'negotiating' with her."

"I've heard as much."

"You looking to stop him?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm just here to make sure he survives."

"And to bring him along with us," Tony added.

"Hmm, not an easy task," Shoumo remarked, tracing her finger over her chin. "You're going to have to get up there alive to have any chance of that, and Rutherford Towers is famous for being the most heavily secured building in London outside Westminster. But then again, I always enjoy a good challenge."

"And to be clear," Gibbs said, staring at her, "your objective really _is_ the chip and not Rutherford herself?"

"I surely won't be sad if something bad happens to her, but she's a paranoid enough woman to surround herself with a small army of mercenaries as security," she declared. "Fighting her head-on might not be a very good idea unless you're planning to call the rest of your squad away from their own job to help you storm the place."

"Can't risk it. Too high a risk for civilian casualties."

"Well then, we'd better come up with an alternative."

"'We'?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

Shoumo stood up and levelled with him eye to eye. "You know how to get up to her penthouse without being detected?"

"Not sure I trust you."

"I'm sorry you think that way, Gibbs. But I don't think you have many alternatives. You storm into that building, you'll have a hundred mercenaries on you in a second. If you want to reach Rutherford in one piece, you'll have to try another way." She nodded. "That's where I come in."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Even if you're right, what makes you think your plan will succeed?"

Shoumo smiled mischievously. "I didn't get to where I am by being mediocre in my job. I'm sure that if we crossed paths just a few weeks ago, you would have been delighted to arrest me on the spot. Things are a little different here; it could mean the difference between life and death."

"That's never a good choice," Tony murmured.

"I am not sure I like it, but we may not have any alternative, Gibbs," Ziva added.

Gibbs turned his attention back to the Indian woman. "You really think this would work?"

Shoumo smiled again. "Don't worry, Gibbs. If everything goes right, I doubt you'll have to switch magazines in your weapons."

There was an audible groan from Tony, which attracted everyone's attention. "What is wrong?" Ziva asked.

Tony looked up at her with a pained expression, and shook his head. "You remember the last time everything went right for us, Zee?"

Ziva looked lost. "Not really."

"That's 'cause there _wasn't_ one."

The van fell silent for a few moments.

"So, who wants to show me the schematics of the building?" Shoumo chirped.

**A/N: Please review and give me feedback! **

**I'm serious! I've had no reviews for several chapters! Seriously, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, your thoughts as a whole, etc. Reviews motivate me. Motivation + feedback = better writing. :)**

**Here's an incentive: the action will pick up a little bit again in the next chapter. :)**


	39. What a Wonderful Group We Are

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, Mass Effect or anything else that may seem familiar in this story. This is purely for fun.**

_**Day 4: East End of London, England, United Kingdom- 1028 GMT**_

"Get your elbow the hell out of my face, _puto_!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Latina."

"You want to fight, you big bastard? I'll put my boot so far up your ass, you'll be tasting leather for a month!"

"I'd like to see you try."

"Hey!" Stephanie hissed from across the alley. "This isn't the time or place. Keep your voices down, both of you!"

Maria gave a dismissive snort. Gage shook his head. "Whatever. I stay in this position much longer without doing something, my quads are gonna shrink."

"Yeah, you wouldn't have much leverage without them," Maria went on brusquely. "Might make railing that cop Seaton more difficult."

"What are you talking about, Brazilian?"

"Oh, come on! 'Nice guns'? You didn't catch her real meaning? Fuck, you _are_ dumb. The only gun she was interested in seeing was the one in your pants. I'd be amazed if she didn't want you to fuck the shit out of her right there in the street."

"Even if you're right, what makes you think she's worthy of a soldier like me?"

"Well, she'd have all the brains in the relationship, that's for sure."

"Screw you, Brazilian."

"Try that, big boy. I'll rewire your gun so it shoots nothing but blanks from now on."

McGee gave a sigh and shook his head. _Today's just one thing after the next,_ he thought. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into being with this group? He could've been with Gibbs, Tony and Ziva- people he knew and could tolerate being around. Instead he was… _here. _He supposed he was a victim of Gibbs' need to have an NCIS presence on this job; for the first time in a while, he regretted being chosen.

The team was in what one might call a less-than-comfortable spot. Stephanie had led them to a location where she believed the travelling salesman Reginald Galsworthy was headed to- a single story warehouse on the other side of the East End. When asked why she thought this was the correct place, she had ignored the question and instead instructed them to take positions behind cover where they could see the only entrance to the building. Squeezed into various corners and hiding places, their less than pleasant situation was starting to get on their nerves. McGee was currently sandwiched between a heavy metal dumpster in front of him and Gage's equally heavy frame behind him; neither side offered much in the way of comfort. To make matters worse, Maria was in an increasingly bad mood. Her lithe body was wedged between a brick wall and Gage's arm, and her temper was getting worse with each passing moment.

"_C'est curieux,_" Giguère remarked in French. The scientist was on the opposite side of the alley, his smaller stature tucked snugly in an alcove just below street level. He seemed to be the only one of them even remotely comfortable.

"What is?" Stephanie asked without taking her eyes off the warehouse. She was positioned behind a short brick wall, one hand on the ground in the manner of a track runner, the other fingering the weapon by her side.

"Why a man with the purported distinction of Galsworthy would come here instead of requesting a meeting in a place more his style."

"Can't be seen inviting gang members to his home," Nigel replied from just behind Stephanie. "I doubt he could explain them away as regular clients."

"_Ah_, yes, that makes sense. Increased threat to his own security warrants greater risk. Admirable." The Frenchman sniffed. "But perhaps not the smartest choice. Risk of death greater than risk of arrest if situation goes wrong."

"He'll probably end up dead anyway," Maria sneered. "If not here, then starving his fat ass away in a cell."

"You sure have a sunny outlook on life," Nigel remarked.

"Yeah?" She shot back. "It's called realism, dingo boy. Try it some time."

A small clang across from in front of them silenced everyone and brought them to attention. McGee gripped his weapon tightly at his side, drawing it halfway out of its holster. No one spoke as six pairs of eyes locked forwards.

There was another small clang; a second later a large rat darted out from behind one of the dumpsters in front of the warehouse, hesitating for a split second before running off to the right down another alley.

Everyone subconsciously released a breath. Stephanie looked rather annoyed, but unlike the rest of them didn't release her hold on her weapon.

"Congratulations, princess," Maria sneered. "You've become the biggest expert on finding rats here. Guess it takes one to find one." Stephanie pointedly ignored her.

For several moments, everyone sat in silence.

"Hey McGee," Gage said suddenly. "Who would win in a fight- you or Gibbs?"

McGee looked back startled, completely caught off guard by the question. "Wha- what?"

"A fight," the South African repeated, talking as though he was asking the junior field agent what two plus two was. "You against Gibbs. First man to be knocked out. Who'd win?"

"I- I can't imagine ever getting into a fight with Gibbs," McGee stammered.

"What about the other agents that follow Gibbs? Who'd win in a fight between you and either of them?"

"I don't know, I've never had a reason to fight them," McGee replied only half-truthfully. If he were being honest, there had been more than one time he'd wondered what would happen in a real physical confrontation against any of his teammates. Not to pick a fight of course, but it occasionally entered his head, usually after enduring one of Tony's taunting sessions or during the sparring practice in NCIS' gym. Considering the number of times he'd ended up with his back on the mat, he'd count his chances as somewhere between 'not great' and 'no chance in hell'.

"Are you kidding, Gage? All of them could kick his ass," Maria said brusquely. "Look at him. He's a pretty boy pussy. I bet that puny Goth Abby could have him crying in a minute. How do you think he'd match up against Gibbs?"

"I just don't like fighting without a good reason," the MIT graduate responded, feeling more than just a little bit irritated by the sudden double-team.

"What if someone gave you a good enough reason?" Gage asked, staring intently at McGee like a lion staring at a piece of meat.

"Like what?" McGee asked confused.

Gage flashed a toothy grin. "Like to see how long you'd last." He cracked his neck. "Bet that would be a reason, you think?"

At this point, McGee began to wonder whether the South African was saying all these things purely as a form of amusement or whether he was legitimately trying to pick a fight. If the latter were the case, the junior field agent knew he stood no chance; even without his genetic engineering, Gage had the advantage over him by more than half a foot and over two hundred pounds. It would be a massacre. Out of the corner of his eye, he tried to catch some level of support from the other team members but all he could see was Stephanie staring at the warehouse, her face expressionless except for a look of cold concentration.

"Look Gage," McGee said slowly. "I'm not a guy that goes out and picks fights just to prove I'm a tough guy, alright? If I have to defend myself or save a life, then I will. But I'm not gonna go around looking for trouble and I'm not going to end up in a fight with Gibbs."

"You mean you doubt yourself too much," the black soldier said unexpectedly.

"Huh?"

Gage stared down at him. "You don't know what it's like to be the main player in a battle, like the other NCIS agents do. You're inexperienced, so you have little confidence. And you've seen Gibbs in action. That's why he's the leader, and that's why he'd win."

Gage fell silent, but for McGee the matter was anything but settled; at this point he didn't know what to think. As he turned back to face the front, conflicting emotions ran through his mind. He felt confused at the South African's words, pissed off at how he seemed to think he knew the MIT graduate after just a couple of days, and annoyed at how accurate the big man's assessment was. If he was being honest, he had to admit it wasn't very far off from reality. In all his time with NCIS, no matter how much he learned or good a job he did, he'd always felt sort of like the outsider in the team. That was, his experiences had been relatively tame compared to most of them. Sure, he wasn't dismissing being trapped in a women's prison and attacked first by a coked-up German Shepard and then a real-life super-soldier as insignificant, but compared to some of the rest of the group- nearly being blown up, contracting the plague, being tortured in a terrorist camp- his tribulations were relatively minor. He supposed he should be grateful he'd escaped the rest of his team's bad luck, but the truth was now, listening to Gage lay things out in the open, he was beginning to feel something else- almost like disappointment.

_Disappointment for not nearly getting killed. Yeah, there's a real logical feeling. What would Gibbs say if he heard that?_

As if on cue, his earpiece crackled to life and an all-too familiar voice spoke out. _"Brewer, I'm gonna ask you something and I want the truth: did Delcourt tell you about another person to recruit here?"_

"Another recruit?" Stephanie asked, putting a finger to her ear. "No. He just mentioned the three in the dossiers I gave you. Why?"

"_'Cause he asked an old CIA contact of mine to send me someone he thought would be useful and the contact happened to know one already in the city."_

"That can't be right," Nigel said, frowning. "Why would he do that? Didn't he think we'll have enough people?"

"Who is the recruit?" Stephanie asked.

"_A Indian woman named Shoumo Bose. Couldn't tell ya what she looks like, but I guess that's the whole point. The CIA contact described her a master thief and she readily admits it."_

"A thief? What would the director think we need a thief for?"

"_You tell me. You're the one who answers to him."_

"What's her status?"

"_Right now she's trying to find the best way to get us into the corporate building of Park Jun-Tae's target."_

"You trust your CIA contact?"

"_No, but I don't have a choice. He says she's got the infiltration and the combat skills to help. If she gets us in, then maybe she can stay around."_

"Hold on a second,"Nigel cut in abruptly. "I still don't see what we need a thief on the team for. I mean, she sounds skilled and all but we've already got a lot of talent."

"_Why thank you,"_ an unfamiliar female voice said._ "You don't sound too bad yourself."_

Nigel jumped backwards and landed in a sitting position on the ground. There was a subtle giggle over the comm system. _"Yeah, I tend to have that effect sometimes."_

"What the hell?" Nigel breathed, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal.

"_Hmm, g__uess I should have started with an introduction. Shoumo Bose. I'm pleased to, well... picture all of you in my mind."_

"Did your contact tell you why the director asked for extra help?" Stephanie asked directly.

"_I figured it has something to do with a whole lot of naval people disappearing. Not that he actually **told** me that, but well, even the CIA's system isn't impenetrable. You'd be surprised how fragile their security can be with just a few tweaks. Good thing I checked; old Korty likes his secrets."_

_Korty,_ McGee thought. _Did she mean Trent Kort?_ He shook his head. No wonder Gibbs was in a less-than-pleasant mood.

"What are you doing in London?" Stephanie requested.

"_Long story._" Gibbs' voice came back on the line. _"You'll hear it later."_

"Very well." Stephanie pursed her lips. "But I think I should warn you about not questioning her motives carefully. We've already had one recruit go AWOL."

"_Who?"_ Gibbs demanded.

"The Russian, Alexei Kharkov. He set himself up in one of the spare storage areas aborad the _NCIS_ and then left, apparently with multiple weapons."

"_Did he say anything?"_

"Sciuto said that he claimed to, and I quote, 'have some killing to do'."

"_See, now that's impolite,"_ Shoumo chirped. _"When I moved in on board your plane, I at least had the decency to keep my weapons hidden."_

"Wait... what do you mean when you moved in?" Stephanie asked.

"_Oh, didn't I say? I took the liberty of sneaking on board your jet and bringing some stuff with me. Nothing major. Just some light weapons, a few short blades-"_

"_And a very expensive Roman artifact that was supposed to debut at the British Museum today."_ Everyone was slightly startled as Abby joined the conversation, betraying the fact she'd been listening in.

There was a momentary silence, but McGee could literally _sense_ the glare Gibbs was giving their would-be newest recruit. "_An **artifact**."_

"_Whoops,"_ Shoumo replied playfully. _"Guess that slipped my mind."_

"_Grand larceny skipped your mind?"_ Gibbs asked sarcastically.

"_It's not really grand larceny if the item in question is fake."_

"Fake?" Nigel piped in.

"_Yeah. The real item was stolen back when it was first discovered. Not my job, in case you're wondering. Whoever did it created this forgery- a very well-done forgery I might add- and sent it in the real one's place. So in a way, I did the public a service. Who wants to be cheated out of your money by seeing a fake?"_

"_And the real one?"_ Gibbs asked.

Shoumo chuckled. _"Somewhere safe,"_ she teased.

"_You stole it back for yourself."_

"_I have no idea what you mean, Agent Gibbs."_ Any non-trained person listening to the Indian now would swear she was telling the truth just by listening to that one sentence. _"As far as I know, the real copy is back in its ancestral land admired by people I promised to help by... oops, said too much."_

"Never mind." Stephanie let out a pent-up breath. "Can you help us with our mission?"

"_As soon as this little job is wrapped up, of course. I didn't move my stuff onto your jet for nothing. Some of it's real expensive."_

"Fine. We'll let you know if we hear anything else about Kharkov, Gibbs."

"_Hope you would. Gibbs out."_ The team leader signed off.

"How very interesting," Giguère remarked. "The late addition is most intriguing. Perhaps a sign that events will begin to... how do you say?... pick up?"

"They'd better," Gage declared. "I'm getting a hell of a bored with this waiting crap."

"_You're_ bored?" Maria declared incredulously. "How do you think I feel, having to crouch here with that ugly CSIS bitch's ass just a few feet away?"

"If all of you have finished complaining," Stephanie said coldly, "we have a target to watch for." She shot a look across the alley. "Don't make yourselves one as well."

Though the words seemed to be directed at Maria, McGee couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at the look in her eyes. It was one not too different from what he'd seen on separate occasions in both Gibbs' and Ziva's eyes. Both of those times he remembered all too well the reason for them.

It was when their owners were preparing to kill someone.

* * *

_**Day 4: Canary Wharf, London, England, United Kingdom- 1040 GMT**_

"Well, that went better than I thought," Shoumo declared as Gibbs signed off. "Your team sounds like a very fun group."

"_Fun_ isn't really the right word," Tony mumbled. Gibbs had given both him and Ziva direct instructions not to interrupt the discussion.

"Yeah, come to think of it, that woman was quite a hard-ass. What was her name? Blinder?"

"Brewer. Stephanie Brewer. Former cop, second-in-command at least in her mind and all around ice queen."

"Not a girls' night out type of woman then." Shoumo shrugged. "Her loss. I can be quite the party organizer. Speaking of which, who was that _masculine_ Aussie? I like him even without having seen him."

"Nigel Warner. Former soldier and all-around good guy. Or as he'd say 'good mate'," Tony grinned, saying the last two words in an exaggerated Australian accent.

Shoumo smiled mischievously under her hood. "Really? I guess I'll have to introduce myself in person when I meet him."

Gibbs interjected, "What can you tell us from the tower's schematics?"

The thief studied the blueprints carefully, her eyes barely visibly moving back and forth. "That our host Miss Rutherford doesn't like intruders," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"How secure is the building?"

"To the average Amar, impenetrable. She likes her surprises. Let's see, just from this we've got a triple-layered surveillance system, automated defences, the ability to lock down any section of the building... And let's not forget her personal mercenary army."

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"Please," she smirked. "You forget who you're talking to."

She indicated with her finger towards the schematics. "Automated defences can easily be overridden. I just need access to the main security computer and override the locks. Surveillance cameras are going to be more difficult. Only one system has control over each layer, and they're all in separate areas of the tower. I'd need to deactivate each one individually."

"Probably won't matter once things get hot," Gibbs said. "Once we go in, they'll know we're there soon enough."

"Good point. And the lock down mechanism?" She waved a hand in the air. "Corrupt the program. Works every time."

"What about getting up the penthouse?"

"Elevators are pretty much out of the question until we block the lock-down. Not sure how long that'll take though. Looks like you'll be climbing stairs for a good portion of the trip."

"Until the trigger-happy security mercs surround us in a staircase on both sides," Tony added, looking at the papers distastefully.

"Not necessarily," Shoumo replied. "They're going to be busy. Between fighting you and the two distractions, their forces will be divided fairly thin."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Distractions?"

"One will be your- our assassin working his way up to get to Rutherford. The other will be mine."

"By disabling security?"

"That's part of it."

"And the other part?"

She smiled playfully. "Is a surprise."

"Uh-huh. Long as this _surprise_ doesn't kill us, I don't care. In the meantime, I want some type of plan to get inside the building." The senior agent's eyes moved around the van, stopping on the fourth occupant. Ziva crouched on the ground reading a schematic- the same schematic she'd been looking at unblinkingly for the last ten minutes. "You two look for the best entrances. David!"

Ziva looked up startled at Gibbs' bark. "Yes Gibbs?"

"You're with me planning possible exit strategies. Got some schematics over here to look at." Ziva opened her mouth to say something and Gibbs quickly interrupted. "_Now_, David. That's an order."

Ziva looked puzzled but followed Gibbs to the back of the vehicle. "I do not understand, Gibbs. All the schematics are over there."

Gibbs looked past her to Tony and Shoumo. The distance between the two pairs was hardly enough to be out of earshot, but it was the best he could do without looking suspicious. "What's going on, David?"

"Gibbs?"

He looked her straight in the eye. "You haven't said a word for half an hour."

She shrugged. "There was nothing to say."

"There nothing to look at either? You were staring at that schematic for ten straight minutes."

Another shrug. "I did not want to miss anything," she said plainly, her face expressionless.

If Gibbs were any less of an investigator, that answer almost would have worked. Almost. "David, that schematic was for a storage room. There's one way in and out and nothing in there but boxes and crates. You'd have moved on from it in less than a minute."

The shot told. Ziva's eyes moved downwards and her lips pursed ever so lightly. "If there's something I need to know-"

"There is not," she interrupted. "Nothing that would affect the mission."

"But something overall," he pressed.

"It does not matter," she responded, her emotionless mask back in place. "I am focused on what needs to be done. That is the important thing."

Gibbs stared at her; she stared right back, unblinkingly. That wasn't the truth and both of them knew it. Gibbs was well aware Ziva had a problem admitting when something was wrong; DiNozzo had once said that you could an assassin out of the Mossad, but you couldn't take the Mossad out of an assassin. Despite being an American citizen, she more than once had fallen back on her natural training of never showing emotion or anything that could be perceived as a weakness whenever she felt under threat. Once that wall was put up, it took a hell of an effort to bring it down. Right now, Gibbs was going put in a hell of an effort.

"Maybe you're focused now, but what about tomorrow? What about tonight? What about five minutes from now?" He pressed. "If there's something going on, it's gonna be taken care of right now."

"Gibbs-"

"Not open for discussion, David. Here and now or you're on the sidelines until it is."

"Gibbs!" Ziva hissed, loud enough to catch Tony and Shoumo's attention.

"Your choice," the former Marine replied.

Ziva stared at him, perhaps hoping that it would cause him to back off; he didn't give an inch. After a moment or two of tense silence, she let out an exasperated breath. "Fine," she huffed, casting a glance towards the front of the van; their two companions were making the show of studying the blueprints and make it seem like they were not listening in. She wasn't too worried about Tony- she could handle him easily enough- but the thief was a wild card. Shoumo Bose seemed skilled and nice enough, but her profession instinctively made Ziva distrust the Indian slightly; thieves were looked at with disdain not only in Israel but by many of the Jewish faith. She remembered growing up listening to stories of treasures and possessions owned by Jews that were stolen by the Nazis and their collaborators during the Holocaust. After she joined Mossad, the mere memory of one of those stories was enough to make her want to hunt those monsters down and kill them herself- slowly and painfully.

Gibbs noticed her movements and immediately understood; he nodded and stepped out the back of the vehicle. Ziva followed close behind.

Shoumo and Tony watched the pair leave. "Was it something I said?" the former asked as the doors closed behind them.

Tony shook his head. Sometimes when it came to those two, he thought, it was better not to ask.

* * *

Outside, Gibbs led Ziva to a secluded bench about fifty feet away where there were few people walking around and sat down. Ziva hesitated a moment, then sat down beside him.

For several moments, neither spoke; each stared straight ahead silently. To the average passerby, it looked as though the two didn't know each other at all.

Finally, Gibbs spoke. "Alright Ziver, what's going on?"

Ziva's mouth formed a thin, uncomfortable line. Her fingers tapped together. Her brown eyes seemed to darken slightly; looking into them Gibbs could see anger, but he also could see something else- shame.

"It was-"

"_Don't_ say it wasn't a big deal. When you're like this, it is a big deal."

"I was going to say it was when I went back to Mossad a few years ago," she said softly.

Gibbs turned to look at her. That wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

"You know about the mission in Somalia." Gibbs nodded. "What you do not know is what happened to make me go on that mission."

"Thought Eli said you were the only one he trusted for that op."

"That is only part of the reason. He wanted to see if I could still be trusted to do what was necessary."

"So what happened?"

Ziva took a deep breath. "Shortly after you left Israel, my father gave me a mission." She snorted. "He could not even have the courtesy to ask how I felt before sending me off again.

"He gave me the name of a man in Berlin. An Iranian named Mahmoud Rastajan. Eli told me he had been gathering information that revealed the extent of Mossad's presence in Germany. I assumed it was for terrorism purposes and did not ask for details. I... was too angry over what had happened to think rationally.

"My mission was to seduce him, kill him and steal whatever data he had. It was easy. I approached him in a hotel bar and soon we headed back to his room. I drugged his champagne and after he passed out, I... smothered him with a pillow." Her fists clenched tightly and she swallowed hard. "Then I gathered whatever data I could find and left. When I got back, my father congratulated me on a job well done.

"It was a couple of days later that I heard the whole story about Rastajan. Only I found out he was not a terrorist at all." For the first time, Ziva looked at Gibbs. "He was a journalist."

Gibbs stared at her. "So your mission..." he said slowly.

"It was murder, Gibbs," Ziva said, shaking her head. "Cold-blooded murder. That man was an exiled journalist reporting on the atrocities the Iranian government was committing against its own people. He was advocating a stronger pro-democratic movement of the Iranian diaspora in Europe. He wanted equal rights for women in Iran." Her jaw clenched. "He was a single father of two children. The youngest one was not even two years old. The way I heard it, those two children were everything to him. And I murdered their father."

"So what happened?"

"When I confronted Eli, he told me the results were worth it. But they were not. I looked at the data; there was twice as much information on Iran's presence in Germany as Israel's. And nothing that came close to compromising our security. My father did not care. He wanted something done and he got it. And now he was questioning my judgement because I dared to question his. He said he wanted to make sure I was still _competent_ enough to do the same things I had before."

"Somalia." Gibbs finished.

She nodded. "I have not thought about that mission in a long time. When Bose mentioned the journalist Rutherford had killed... I suppose everything came back to me." She drew herself up. "I should not have brought this up."

"Why not?"

"It is a memory of the past. Regrets do not help you," she answered, sounding more like the old Ziva. But it was also something that sounded rehearsed, as if someone had drilled the lines into her head. Someone like Eli David. "They are a weakness."

"They're part of what makes you human."

Ziva shook her head. "I do not know. I am not sure what to do anymore. I cannot just forget about what I did in Mossad."

"Not asking you to," Gibbs said simply. "But you're your own person now, aren't ya? Isn't it time you stopped letting your father control your life?"

"I know that, Gibbs. I am my own person, there is no need to convince me of that. But Eli did not want that to happen. He wanted me to be a tool, an emotionless killer that he could use whenever he felt like it. It was because of him that Ari became a monster." She looked him straight in the eye. "I will not let myself become the same thing."

The barest hint of a smile crossed Gibbs' face. "Won't have to do that alone, y'know."

"I know." An even smaller smile briefly crossed Ziva's face. "And I am grateful."

He reached over and patted her hand. Two years ago her first instinct would have been to flinch or counterattack. Today she merely nodded appreciatively.

"You ready for this?" Gibbs asked seriously.

She met his eyes. "Always."

"Good." The two of them stood but Gibbs, instead of walking back to the van, put his finger to his ear. "And Bose, if you wanna hack the communications, try to giggle less the next time. You gave yourself away thirty seconds after we left."

"_Thirty seconds? Damn it. Guess I'll chalk it down to team jitters. Still, better me than someone who isn't so honest, right?"_

"Uh huh," Gibbs deadpanned. "You do this for practice or 'cause DiNozzo badgered you to do it?"

"_Me? Need practice with hacking comm units? Please. It was all his idea,"_ Shoumo said as Tony sputtered in the background.

Ziva tapped into her own link and began walking slowly towards the van. "Oh Tony?" she said with overly false sweetness. From her belt she pulled out her favourite knife; even with the lack of sunlight, the metal gleaned as if freshly polished. "I think we need to have a little _chat_..."

* * *

_**Day 4: East End of London, England, United Kingdom- 1121 GMT**_

"_There_."

That one word from Stephanie's mouth snapped everyone to attention. Their thoughts of how uncomfortable they were immediately vanished. Even Maria stopped her snide remarks and paid attention. McGee automatically clasped his hand at his weapon.

"Looks like he brought company," Nigel remarked.

The Australian was right. Across the alleyway in front of the warehouse stood the unmistakable rotund form of Reginald Galsworthy. His two security guards were at his side, as expressionless as ever. As they stood the door to the warehouse opened and a rugged black man with a beard dressed in low quality street clothes walked out.

"You've got some fucking nerve coming out here, mate," he said.

"I had no other choice," Galsworthy replied nervously, looking around him as though he expected to be ambushed. "I have to talk to your boss."

"She ain't here. And anyway, what makes you think she'll want to talk to you?"

"She has to! It's a matter of life and death!"

"Yeah? Well, she don't give two shits about your life, fat boy! So piss off!"

Another man exited the warehouse, this one white but with an even lower level of hygiene than his companion. "The fuck's takin' so long, Cal? Thought you said it was... the fuck's this fat bloke doin' here?"

"He wants to see the boss, Bobby."

"Does he now? And what does he want to see 'er for?"

"I must see her! You don't understand, my life is in danger!"

"Damn right it is. We got word you went and talked to the coppers."

"No!" Galsworthy said frantically. "They weren't the police!"

"Then who the fuck were they?"

"I- I don't know who they were!"

The man named Cal said, "Maybe you'll remember after we break a few of your fingers."

Galsworthy's two bodyguards stepped forward, their boss scurrying behind them. "You think these two bastards can protect you, ya fat fucker?" The one called Bobby sneered. From his pocket he pulled out a switchblade. "We'll leave yer corpses for the rats."

Stephanie turned towards the squad. "Fall in," she directed. Fingering her weapon, she rose up out of her hiding place and began to walk towards the group. Nigel went next followed by Giguère. McGee quickly moved close to the Frenchman, eager to put some distance between himself and the final two more volatile members of the squad.

Bobby was talking again. "I'm gonna give you to the count a' three to tell us who you talked to. After that-"

"Oi! Bobby!" Cal shouted. Looking up, Bobby saw his companion stare across the alley and followed his gaze. He followed his line of sight and was surprised to see the group of strangers walking toward them.

"Who the fuck are you?" He sneered.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Giguère was rapidly calculating the chances these gang members thought they had. The one by the name of Bobby had the self-confidence of someone used to bullying to get his way. It was the same thing he was trying to do now, but faced with multiple enemies of a higher calibre there was no mistaking the uncertainty and fear behind his eyes.

The other one was now being more cautious. He was holding back, content to let his partner do all the bluffing. His eyes moved back and forth as though trying to find a way to escape if things went bad. Nonetheless he too seemed to have an air of arrogance about him that, while not as strong as his companion's, it was strong enough to dissuade him from merely leaving the scene peacefully.

_Foolish. They will need to be handled forcefully in order to be persuaded to leave._

"That's them," Galsworthy exclaimed loudly, pointing a shaking finger at the group. "These are the people who confronted me! These barbarians who-"

"Shut the hell up, _puto_," Maria growled. The businessman closed his mouth. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and under his collar.

"Pretty," Bobby leered. Obviously he didn't take the Brazilian very seriously. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that her shotgun was still hidden on the other side of her body.

"We're only here for him," Stephanie stated, indicating to Galsworthy who promptly lost a good deal of his colouring.

"Yeah?" Cal seemed to get some of his nerve back. "Well, what if we don't feel like letting ya talk to him?"

"This doesn't concern either of you," Stephanie said coolly. "I advise you leave while you still can."

"That right?" Emboldened by his partner's new-found nerve, Bobby stepped forward brandishing his switchblade. "Well I suggest you find a new stomping ground, girlie, before we-"

_BAM!_

The switchblade in Bobby's hand promptly shattered in a dozen pieces, sending pieces of metal flying everywhere. The man jumped back with a startled shout, as did many of the others. Whipping around, McGee saw Giguère standing behind him, smoking pistol aimed unwaveringly at the gang member. "Suggestion noted," the former DGSE agent said as coolly as the Seine in the winter. "Now please depart from this area."

The two blokes looked at each other, shock and fear in their face. They hesitated for just the briefest of moments before apparently deciding this was one confrontation they'd be better off avoiding and raced off down a side-street.

Galsworthy watched them leave, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "Thank you," he breathed with relief. "There was no telling what those barbarians would have done. Did you speak to the detective?" He looked around nervously. "Why don't we talk more once we're out of this wretched area?"

"You're not going anywhere," Stephanie said curtly.

The Englishman blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You lied to us earlier when you said you had no idea why your partner was killed," the Canadian went on, her voice as cold as ice. "I'm giving you one chance and one chance only to change your story."

The sweat reappeared on the salesman's face. He struggled to keep his voice steady; it didn't go off well. "Lied? I- I've no idea what you're talking about!"

"You want to swear to that, _puto_?" Maria said tersely, getting up as close as she could to his face.

"The Paladin says in you're in this murder up to your arse," Nigel added with little sympathy.

At the mention of the enigmatic warrior, Galsworthy's eyes widened and for the first time he looked truly afraid. "The Paladin? Oh, Christ! Quick!" He turned to his bodyguards. "Shoot them! Shoot them, you two hulking-"

Without hesitation or being ordered to, Gage and Maria drew their shotguns, each aimed at one of the guards and fired. The two men were sent flying backwards, blood spattering the back of the warehouse which they both smashed against and crumpled motionlessly to the ground.

Galsworthy's eyes bulged at the carnage. In the span of half a second, Stephanie had her pistol aimed at his face. "Too slow."

Maria forcefully ejected a shell from her weapon. She snorted, "You really are a fuckin' idiot."

"Wait, wait! Please!" He held up his hands and backed up a step, almost tripping over the guards' bodies. "I'm not a true criminal, I swear! I'll tell you everything, just don't kill me!"

Stephanie lowered her weapon. She did not holster it. "Talk," she ordered. "Why does the Whitechapel gang want you dead?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Well, as I told you, I've done deals with them in the past. Nothing major, certainly not a big part of my business. But in the last few months things have become... rather slow for me. I had to ensure more funds and the Whitechapel people were the best option. They were looking for a something they could both use and sell for a higher price. So I sold them a powdered drug I had recently acquired from some backwater country in Africa." Gage fixed Galsworthy with a piercing look that the man didn't seem to notice. "It's highly addictive, but- well, in large enough doses it's lethal."

He shuffled his feet nervously. "I may have, um... forget to mention that part when I sold it to them."

"What exactly is this drug?" Stephanie questioned. Listening to her, McGee could easily imagine this was how she used to interrogate suspects in the RCMP; the way she slipped between tactics almost rivalled Gibbs.

"It's called Cerebrium 24."

"Oh, you son of a bitch," Maria growled.

McGee turned to her and was almost startled. Her eyes were even more murderous than usual. "You've heard of that before?" he asked.

"Cerebrium 24's the hot new favourite trick of pimps and traffickers in Brazil. It's at the top of the list of their favourite 'gifts' they give to women and children they kidnap to keep them compliant. A little bit of it is like your best orgasm times a million. But too much of it and your lungs shrivel like a man's balls in cold water. You die," her eyes darkened even more, "gasping for a single breath."

Galsworthy coughed nervously. "Yes, that's the part the gang found... unsettling. They have more than just a few casual users in their ranks."

"_Alors,_ the Whitechapel gang killed your partner and now are coming after you because what you sold to them is killing them," Giguère surmised.

"Indeed. So you can imagine my dilemma."

"Why would you come out here to meet with them if they want you dead?" McGee asked. "Isn't that taking a big risk?"

"I have a few... _contacts_ within the group I've made over time," the salesman explained. "You just saw a couple of them. I was hoping I could use those contacts to get Veronica to agree to back off. It didn't go as I had planned."

"I take it 'Veronica' is the leader of the gang," Nigel remarked.

"Yes, and a very dangerous woman at that. All of her subordinates are terrified of her; I have heard rumours she tolerates no failure whatsoever."

"What's her last name?"

"I don't know. No one knows that. All I can tell you is that she only took over the gang recently. She's dangerous and very slippery; if she doesn't wish to be found, she won't be."

The team exchanged quick glances. Was it possible that this 'Veronica' was the fugitive the Paladin was tracking? It was starting to seem very likely.

Stephanie moved up close so that she was right in his face. The salesman, clearly not used to being intimidated without any backup, leaned back slightly. "Where would we find her?"

"I don't-"

"_Don't_ say you don't know."

"No, I..." Galsworthy fumbled for words. "I can't be sure. She moves around so frequently."

"Wrong answer," Gage rumbled, ejecting the shell from his own shotgun.

"Wait!" Galsworthy shouted. "If I were to guess, right now I'd say she'd be at the gang's main base. It's a few blocks north of here. But I doubt they'll just allow you entry."

"I'll make my own entry," Maria said with a feral grin.

Galsworthy shook his head. "It's not that simple. Their operations are conducted... underground."

A chorus of _What?_'s followed this statement. "It's how they've gone undetected for so long," Galsworthy went on. "All their main business originates below the city streets. I don't need to tell you just how _dirty_ that place is. It suits the nature of their work and they won't allow it to be compromised by outsiders."

"So tell us how to get in," Gage said.

That caught the salesman off guard. "I beg your pardon?"

The South African towered over the rotund businessman; at his full height, he was more than a foot taller than Galsworthy "You've been in the enemy's lair. You know their weaknesses. So you'd know how to get in there without asking for damn permission."

"Yes, yes! I do!" the man said, eager to get the soldier away from him. "The gang issued me a passkey to get into the lower levels. Well, naturally I had to turn that one in after our business was concluded but," he fished in his pocket and pulled out a bright silver card. "I happened to make a copy. You know, in case of future transactions."

Gage slowly raised his hands and methodically began cracking his knuckles. Slowly and methodically. McGee shuddered; the sound was so loud, it sounded almost like bones breaking.

"Take it!" Galsworthy quickly held it out. Stephanie took it from him. "If it'll help you, then by all means take it."

He scratched his head. "So... if that concludes our business, I should be going. I have a trip to South America to make today."

For whatever reason, McGee felt a strong inclination to turn towards Stephanie. He couldn't explain it, but he found himself looking at the Canadian. When he did, he was shocked at what he saw; at the lack of the humanity in her eyes. She stared down at Galsworthy with such cold detachment it made the junior field agent's blood freeze. She looked almost... _inhuman_.

Her lips parted.

"_No._"

Half a second after she said that word, she had raised her gun to his head. Half a second after raising her gun, she pulled the trigger.

Reginald Galsworthy's forehead promptly exploded in a spray of red. Blood flew everywhere, spattering the warehouse wall. His body crumpled to the ground.

McGee jumped backwards, his eyes wide in absolute shock. He stared as Stephanie lowered her weapon and said to the salesman's body, "_You don't_."

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nigel shouted in disbelief. Apparently McGee wasn't the only one not expecting that to happen.

Stephanie looked at the Australian. "My job," she said simply. "Galsworthy would have betrayed us to the gang."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"He sold his partner out to the gang hoping they'd get off his back. I could see it in his eyes. And he would have done the same to us."

McGee surveyed the rest of the group, trying to determine whether they were buying that. Apart from Nigel, he seemed to be the only one who seemed completely taken back by the Canadian's action. Giguère gripped his own weapon tightly at his side, his face a tight-lipped unreadable picture, while Gage and Maria both looked highly amused or excited.

"A most severe decision," Giguère said. "Left little room for negotiation or alternatives. Still, I would not put it past the salesman to look out for his own interests. Likely you took the right action."

Nigel frowned. "Yeah. I mean, I don't like it but we didn't have many options. Guess it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Ha!" Maria grinned. "Looks like I was wrong about you, princess. I thought you were a bitch before. Now I know you're a stone cold bitch."

"He died a coward's death," Gage said simply.

"At any rate, he told us where to find the gang's base," Stephanie declared. "We find it and make our way through until we find this leader."

"And the other gang members in the base?" Giguère questioned.

Stephanie looked at him. "No detainees."

Gage gave a delighted laugh. "I like the way you think, Canadian!"

"Move out," the CSIS officer said.

As the others turned and walked away, McGee stepped in front of her. She stopped, her eyes almost boring into his own. "What?"

"Are we just gonna leave them here in the street?" he asked, indicating to the three bodies lying next to the warehouse. "Shouldn't we, you know, call and at least ask the police to look after them?"

"We're not here to pick up trash, McGee," she said bluntly. "Stay focused on the mission."

McGee stared at her, almost unwilling to believe what he had seen from the woman in the last few minutes. It was a scary shift, even from their last meeting at the CSIS facility. "I thought you said you were a cop before anything else, Stephanie."

"Officer Brewer," she replied coldly.

The junior field agent persisted. "You said the first thing you were was a police officer. Police officers don't execute unarmed people."

"Wrong," she replied. "I said I was a Canadian before I was anything else. And I'm trying to make sure my country will still be standing at the end of all this."

"By killing people who won't cooperate with you?"

"If necessary, yes. Galsworthy was a liability." She looked him square in the eyes. "Make sure you don't become one."

She pushed past him and walked away, leaving McGee with nothing but three dead bodies and the echo of her words rattling in his brain.

**A/N: Surprise, surprise! Guess what? This fic is NOT dead! Although, it's sure as hell been on hiatus long enough.**

**These past few months have been really hectic, but we're finally off again! In future I'll try to make waits between updates shorter. No guarantees but I'll try.**

**Cerebrium 24 is my own creation.**

**Just thinking out loud- why am I writing about people killing journalists when I'm studying journalism? Is it dealing with some type of future fear? Why am I asking these questions out loud? Although, to be killed by Ziva wouldn't be a bad way to go (as long as she doesn't decide to 'interrogate' beforehand) ;)**

**Vote for your favourite new character on my profile poll!**

**And most important of all, PLEASE REVIEW! I love feedback and constructive criticism. **


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